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"  SENOKITA    ARISroCKA  riCA. 


An  American  Girl 
In  Mexico 


By   Elizabeth  VIsere   McGary 


With  Illustrations 


New  York 

1904 


Copyright,  1903, 

by 

ELIZABETH  McGARY, 

in  the 

United  States 

and 

Great  Britain. 

Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall, 

London. 

All  Rights  Reserved. 

PubliKfifd,  March,  lOOU. 


Aft  American  Girl  in  Mexico 


M 17  leu 


TO  MY  FRIENDS, 

THE  MEXICANS  AMONG  WHOM  I  FOUND  SUCH  A 
HAPPY  HOME. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE. 

A   Senorita   Aristocratica Frontispiece 

A  Child  of  Nature 8 

Monterey  Between  the  Bishop's  Palace  and 

Saddle   Mountain       i6 

A  Small  Burden  for  a  Peon 22 

Taking  a  Sunbath  Before  Their  Palm  Hut    .  32 

The  "Aqua  Fresca"  Man 42 

Patiently  Awaiting  Customers 46 

A  Mexican  Wedding  Invitation 52 

"Playing  the  Bear" 58 

My   Innocent   Maid — Trinidad 72 

Cathedral  de  San  Fernando 78 

Pedro  with  the  Nina  of  Luz 82 

Extracting  the  Favorite  Pulque — the  Curse 

OF  the  Peon 84 

"The  Blind  Lead  the  Blind" 90 

A  Hallway  in  the  House  of  the  Senora's 

Brother       132 

A  Happy  Home  Circle 154 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  MEXICO. 


CHAPTER  I. 

To  one  who  has  never  known  the  joy  of 
basking  idly  beneath  the  influence  of  Mex- 
ico's soft  sunshine^  description  seems  extrav- 
agant. There  is  something  inexpressibly 
pleasing  in  every  phase  of  that  Edenic 
climate.  The  moment  I  stepped  from  the 
train  early  one  morning  at  Monterey  into 
brighter  snnshine  than  I  had  ever  known 
before  and  viewed  the  soft^  white  heaps  of 
clouds  on  the  surrounding  red  mountains, 
I  knew  that  an  extravaganza  on  its  charms 
would  be  an  impossibility. 

The  choice  of  transport  to  the  hotels  af- 
ter leaving  the  stuffy  little  sleeper  lay  be- 


2         An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

tAveen  a  quaint  mule  car  and  an  old  coach  of 
*tlie  model  of  1850.  While  we  were  debating 
which  we  should  take,  the  more  progresf=5ive 
itinerants  rumbled  away  in  every  available 
'coach,  and,  not  much  disappointed,  we  be- 
took ourselves  to  the  little  yellow  car,  on 
the  platform  of  which  sat  the  driver,  lazily 
reveling  in  one  of  the  native  shuck-wrapped 
cigarettes.  It  was  several  minutes  before 
he  aroused  himself  to  the  realization  of  his 
responsibilities,  when  he  took  one  last,  lov- 
ing puff  at  his  "cigarro" — gave  a  shrill 
whistle  between  his  teeth — a  characteristic 
sound  with  them  in  driving — and  lashed  the 
mules  severely  with  his  big  black  whip. 
Away  they  clattered  over  the  white  stone 
street,  so  fast  that  we  found  the  fresh  morn- 
ing air  rather  chilling  and  drew  our  wraps 
more  closely  about  us.  The  car  drivers, 
wear  long  black  cloaks,  with  hoods  shaped 
like  those  on  golf  capes,  and  these  they  pull 
over  their  faces  until  only  their  black  eyes 
peep  out.     On  all  the  sidewalks  men  and 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.         3 

women  were  crouched  as  if  freezing,  com- 
pletely enveloped  in  crimson  blankets.  These 
are  drawn  up  over  their  heads  until  one 
finds  it  difficult  to  distinguish  a  man  from 
a  woman. 

These  blankets  are  among  the  essentials 
of  a  wardrobe;  a  child  hoards  up  his  first 
pennies  toward  the  purchase  of  one  of  his 
own,  and  seems  thoroughly  self-satisfied 
when  wrapped  in  its  warm  folds.  The  day 
really  never  grows  cold  enough  to  require 
such  protection,  but  from  their  viewpoint 
it  is  never  too  warm  for  a  blanket  to  be  a 
comfort.  On  the  warmest  July  day  one  can 
see  these  animated  red  and  purple  blankets 
on  every  street  corner. 

On  a  bright  January  morning,  such  as 
that  of  our  arrival,  words  are  inade- 
quate to  express  the  picturesqueness  of 
a  street  scene.  It  is  remarkable  that  in  so 
fchort  a  journey  one  can  reach  a  land  so 
fascinatingly  foreign  as  that  upon  which 
we  gazed  that  morning  from  our  little  side- 


4         An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

tracked  sleeper.  The  blanketed  popula- 
tion, the  brown  children,  hairless  dogs  and 
Spanish  music  were  to  us  like  a.  scenic  pro- 
duction in  some  fine  theatre,  as  we  rattled 
on  behind  the  little  mules,  that  every  few 
minutes  received  a  sharp  reminder  of  their 
duty  in  the  form  of  a  sounding  stroke  from 
the  driver's  whip,  which  he  had  just  energy 
enough  to  administer. 

After  what  seemed  to  us  a  pleasantly 
endless  circuit  up  one  stony  street  and  down 
another,  we  alighted  at  a  quaint  looking 
hotel.  A  German  clerk  received  us  with 
the  most  elaborate  mixture  of  Clerman  and 
Spanish  manners,  and,  as  soon  as  Ave  had 
registered,  proceeded  to  write  our  names  on 
a  blackboard  which  hung  in  the  entry,  with 
the  number  of  the  room  opposite  each  name. 
Then  we  went  to  breakfast. 

Such  a.  time  as  we  had!  Not  one  of  us 
knew  a  word  of  Spanish,  and  not  a  waiter 
knew  our  language;  but  as  my  purpose  in 
coming    was    to    learn    theirs,    I    became 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       5 

spokesman  for  the  party.  When  I  bade  fare- 
well to  my  friends  at  home  I  laughingly 
told  them  that  I  knew  only  one  word  of 
Spanish — "cocliero" — which  means  coach- 
man, and  they  told  me  that  "a  little  learning 
is  a  dangerous  thing."  Circumstances  had 
even  denied  me  an  exposition  of  this  knowl- 
edge by  leaving  us  without  a  coach  that 
morning.  By  gesticulating  and  pointing  at 
what  others  were  eating,  and  other 
methods,  more  effective  than  elegant,  we 
finally  had  a  breakfast  before  us.  The  least 
said  of  that  breakfast  the  better.  I  know 
only  that  we  would  gladly  have  exchanged 
the  same,  novelty  thrown  in,  for  one  at 
home.  But  we  laughed  more  than  we  ate, 
and  we  ate  a  good  deal,  too.  My  spirits  fell 
when  I  thought  that  in  a  few  days  I  would 
be  left  here  alone,  but  I  tried  to  put  the 
thought  aside.  The  hall  boy  acts  as  boot- 
black, porter,  messenger  and  chambermaid. 
He  runs  a  free  school  for  the  dissemination 
of  Spanish  to  the  ignorant  guests.    This  he 


6      An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

does  ^^con  mucho  gusW  if  he  can  under- 
stand the  questions  put  to  him  in  the  almost 
baby  talk  that  Americans  use  in  speaking  to 
a  Mexican. 

There  was  more  laughter  when  we 
went  up  to  our  rooms.  Such  a  quaint  place 
as  a  Mexican  hotel  is  built  entirely  of 
stone,  both  floors  and  walls,  upstairs  and 
down !  The  rooms  are  in  a  circle  around  a 
patio  or  court.  This  is  brilliant  with  all 
kinds  of  lovely  flowers,  and  filled  with  their 
fragrance.  Pigeons  plash  in  the  cool  waters 
of  a  fountain  in  the  centre  all  day  long. 
This  patio  makes  a  beautiful  picture,  with 
the  mild  but  radiant  sunshine  streaming 
over  it,  lending  a  thousand  prismatic  colors 
to  the  waters  of  the  fountain.  There  is 
such  a  sense  of  novelty  in  Mexico.  Even 
the  clank,  clank  of  shoes  up  the  stone  stairs 
has  a  strange,  new  sound.  The  galleries  are 
filled  with  people  lounging  in  big,  rope  rock- 
ers, some  chatting,  others  reading,  but  more 
dozing  lazily,  even  in  the  early  morning. 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.  7 

Our  rooms  had  double  doors,  one  above  the 
other.  The  lower  one,  about  four  feet  high, 
could  be  locked  and  the  other  left  open. 

The  furniture  was  unlike  any  I  ever  saw. 
The  use  of  single  black  iron  bedsteads  is 
almost  universal  throughout  the  Republic 
— an  inconsistent  evidence  of  their  knowl- 
edge of  hygiene.  My  room  was  in  black, 
and  had  a  big,  hemp  rug  on  the  floor.  After 
a  two  hours'  ^'siesta"  we  went  down  on  the 
plaza  in  front  of  the  hotel,  and  sat  in  mute 
admiration  until  the  dinner  hour.  The  plaza 
is  a  large  square,  beautiful  with  flovv'ers  and 
palm-trees.  There  was  every  kind  of  flower, 
even  to  magnolias  in  abundance,  and  foun- 
tains played  among  the  trees.  Every  shady 
nook  is  fitted  with  a  bench,  and  from  t-:' 
bandstand  in  the  centre,  almost  hidden 
amid  the  trees,  the  soft,  sensuous  music  of 
stringed  instruments  delights  the  idlers 
there  nearly  every  evening.  Plaza  Hidalgo^ 
smaller  than  the  favorite  Zaragosa,  is  most 
of  the  year  aflame  with  crimson  poppies, 


S         An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

whose  somnolent  qualities  under  the  influ- 
ence of  the  sun  produce  a  delicious  languor 
upon  the  loiterer  there. 

All  classes  of  people  gather  on  the  plazas 
in  the  evening.  There  are  three  walks  laid 
out.  The  one  on  the  edge  is  for  the  people 
of  the  higher  class,  and  for  all  Americans; 
the  next  for  those  of  the  middle  class,  and 
on  the  inside  walk  throng  the  ''peons/'  or 
people  of  the  lower  classes.  That  they  know 
so  well  how  to  take  their  proper  place  was 
a  constant  wonder  to  me;  it  is  seldom  that 
one  forgets,  but  if  he  does,  and  tries  to 
tread  a  walk  too  high,  one  of  the  little  dried- 
up  looking  policemen  takes  pleasure  in 
ejecting  him.  The  men  and  women  walk 
in  different  directions  unless  married,  when 
they  are  permitted  to  stroll  arm  in  arm. 
"Stroll"  seems  hardly  the  correct  word,  as 
they  walk  very  rapidly,  perhaps  in  order 
that  they  may  meet  their  friends  of  the 
opposite  sex  oftener,  and  enjoy  their  little 
greeting,  "adiost."     This  word,  translated, 


A   CHILD   OK  NATURE. 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       9 

means  "To  God,"  and  was  originally  in- 
tended as  our  word  good-bj-e,  but  has  come 
to  be  the  usual  greeting  among  intimate 
friends. 

On  the  afternoon  of  our  first  day  in  Mex- 
ico an  important  event  occurred.  A  friend 
of  mine  in  the  States  had  managed  to  secure 
the  promise  of  a  boarding  place  for  me  in 
the  home  of  a  one-time  Governor,  this 
friend  having  long  been  on  intimate  terms 
with  the  family;  on  this  afternoon,  accord- 
ing to  earlier  arrangements,  we  went  to 
their  home  to  meet  them.  We  were  to  take 
merenda,  or  five  o'clock  tea,  with  them, 
and  I  was  not  to  return  until  the  day  of 
the  departure  of  my  companions. 

When  the  carriage,  after  rumbling  and 
bouncing  over  stones  as  large  as  my  head, 
of  which  Calle  de  San  Francisco  is  particu- 
larly full,  at  last  drew  up  before  an  im- 
mense door,  the  cochero  rapped  loudly 
with  the  brass  knocker,  and  I  sat  wondering 
whether  I  could  live  amid  such  strangeness, 


lO       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

until  the  patter  of  feet  was  heard,  the  iron 
bar  was  drawn  back  and  a  brown  face  ap- 
peared inside  the  massive  doorway.  The 
boy  led  us  into  an  old-fashioned  parlor  with 
mirrors  on  every  side.  All  houses  there 
have  a  superabundance  of  mirrors.  They 
rank  next  in  importance  to  food,  for  the 
Mexicans  are  a  vain  people. 

Soon  the  Seiiora  came  in,  a  stately  woman 
dressed  in  black,  with  a  lace  mantilla  over 
her  head.  Extending  her  pretty  hands,  she 
came  to  me,  and  stooping,  kissed  mine  in 
the  most  graceful  manner,  and  said  some- 
thing I  felt  sure  was  pleasant  because  her 
smile  was,  though  I  couldn't  understand  a 
word.  Fortunately  a  smile  is  the  same  the 
world  over. 

Her  two  daughters  followed  her,  dressed 
in  simple  white,  with  white  lace  mantillas, 
and  when  they  were  introduced,  kissed  my 
hand,  and  I  think  said  the  same  words  of 
greeting.  Such  deference  was  likely  to  be 
disconcerting,  and  I  was  just  congratulating 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       1 1 

myself  that  I  had  not  received  it  awkwardly, 
when  Seuor  Carlos,  the  son,  was  presented. 
He  dropped  on  one  knee,  in  true  cavalier 
style,  and,  taking  both  my  hands  in  his, 
gently  pressed  his  lips  to  them.  I  was 
almost  overwhelmed.  It  seems  that  special 
greeting  was  extended  me  because  I  was 
to  become  a  member  of  the  household.  I 
had  now  met  all  the  members  of  the  fam- 
ily, as  the  father  had  been  dead  some  years. 
I  was  relieved  that  there  were  no  more,  and 
little  thought  then  that  before  many  months 
had  passed  I  would  bow  over  the  SeQora's 
hand  and  touch  my  lips  to  it.  Neverthe- 
less, the  adage  about  being  in  Eome  and  do- 
ing as  Rome  does  was  carried  out. 

After  the  greetings  were  over,  they  all 
laughed  merrily  at  our  position,  for  we  were 
unable  to  exchange  even  the  most  casual 
remarks  about  the  weather,  and  even  if  we 
had  been  able  to  do  this  it  would  have  been 
rather  foolish  as  the  weather  is  always  the 
same. 


1 2    An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

It  was  but  a  few  minutes  till  the  little, 
brown  domestic  who  had  met  us  at  the  door 
drew  aside  the  portieres,  and  made  an  an- 
nouncement that  we  guessed  to  be  luncheon, 
as  the  family  beckoned  us  to  rise.  We  were 
ushered  into  a  jmtio  where,  beneath  an  im- 
mense orange  tree  covered  with  blossoms 
and  big  golden  oranges,  was  spread  a  snowy 
table.  Pigeons  fluttered  among  the  flow- 
ers, cooing  softly,  and  the  picture  could  not 
have  been  more  complete. 

The  luncheon  was  simple.  Enchiladas 
formed  the  first  course.  Enchiladas  are 
much  like  tamales,  except  that  they  contain 
Mexican  cheese,  and  onions.  These  were 
served  with  hot  tortillas,  which  are  very 
thin,  white  corn  cakes,  made  of  boiled  corn 
ground  as  fine  as  flour,  and  bleached,  and 
are  brought  in  every  few  minutes  fresh  from 
the  griddle  just  inside  the  kitchen  door, 
where  the  cook  kneels  in  full  view,  patting 
them  out  noisily.  This  patting  of  "tortillas'^ 
is  an  odd  sound,  more  like  the  severe  chas- 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.        13 

tisement  of  a  child  with  the  hand  than  any- 
thing else.  Next  came  nut  macaroons,  and 
chocolate  with  whipped  cream,  and  when 
the  last  sign  of  this  had  been  removed, 
wine  and  mangoes  were  served.  Mangoes 
are  a  delicious  fruit,  yellow  and  juicy — a 
marked  favorite,  and  ours  were  served  in 
blue,  china  plates  with  silver  single-pronged 
forks.  I  learned  to  like  them  so  well  that 
when  I  became  homesick  I  would  go  out 
into  the  street  and  buy  one,  for  it  is  almost 
possible  to  forget  all  else  in  the  trouble  and 
enjoyment  of  eating  them.  When  the  me- 
renda  was  over  they  showed  us  through 
the  patio  we  then  sat  in,  giving  each 
some  orange  blossoms  and  a  huge  or- 
ange from  the  tree  over  the  table.  After 
they  had  showTi  us  another  patio  back  of 
this  one  with  trees  and  sleepy  hens  in  it, 
we  left,  helplessly  trying  to  make  them  un- 
derstand that  we  had  had  a  pleasant  visit, 
and  that  I  would  be  back  on  Thursday ;  but 
they  would  only  shake  their  heads  and  say, 


14       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

^'Bien,  'biefi."  The  Senora  had  patted  me  on 
the  cheek  and  said  '^'Slmpatica"  several 
times,  and,  as  I  was  sure  she  meant  some- 
thing nice  (for  a  Spaniard  never  says  any- 
thing to  one's  face  that  isn't  nice)  I  departed 
in  high  spirits. 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       15 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  next  afternoon  we  took  the  car  out  to 
the  Bishop's  Palace,  a  grand  old  historic 
building,  with  its  secret  entrances  and  exits 
and  blood  spattered  walls,  to  which  the 
guide  points  with  horror  depicted  on  his 
face,  though  on  close  examination  the  spots 
look  strangely  like  splotches  of  Ted  paint. 
The  walls  had  thousands  of  names  carved 
on  their  dingy  surfaces^ — names  of  people 
from  every  land — some  carved  many,  many 
years  ago.  It  is  a  long  steep  ascent  from 
the  car  line  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  but 
this  climb  is  made  on  burros,  which  may  be 
hired  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain.  The  lit- 
tle animals  pick  their  way  carefully  among 
the  rocks  and  seem  as  faithful  as  humans. 


1 6       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

An  ascent  that  a  burro  cannot  climb  must 
partake  of  the  perpendicular.  Far  to  the  left 
of  this  hill  can  be  seen  nestling  in  the  dis- 
tant valley,  the  little  hamlet  of  Santa  Cata- 
rina,  and  the  beautiful  Saddle  Mountain, 
considered  the  finest  in  Mexico.  And  there 
are  no  mountains  in  the  world  grander  than 
theirs  rising  up  majestically  on  every  side. 
Several  miles  to  the  right  is  the  "bone- 
yard,"  where  there  are  thousands  of  skele- 
tons. Burial  lots  may  be  leased  for  periods 
of  two  years  in  which  bodies  are  buried. 
At  the  expiration  of  two  years,  unless  the 
lease  be  renewed,  the  skeleton  is  exhumed 
and  thrown  into  the  bone-yard.  Plenty  of 
people  are  too  poor  to  stand  the  expense  of 
keeping  their  loved  ones  underground,  and 
the  bone-yard  does  not  lack  for  gruesome 
blanched  bones. 

We  saw  some  tourists  do  a  daring  deed. 
They  rode,  or  at  least  started  to  ride,  down 
the  Bishop's  Hill  on  their  wheels.  Losing 
control,  they  were  precipitated  down  the  hill 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.        ly 

at  a  most  remarkable  speed.  Strange  to  say, 
they  did  not  collide,  teaching  the  base  at 
nearly  the  same  time,  they  flew  over  the 
handle-bars  in  such  perfect  unison  that  one 
would  almost  have  thought  this  acrobatic 
ending  a  planned  feature  of  the  ride.  Not 
one  of  the  rough  riders  seemed  injured,  al- 
though my  hair  almost  stood  on  end  and  my 
mind  went  faster  than  the  wheels — so  fast 
that  I  saw  in  imagination  three  funerals. 
Speaking  of  funerals,  reminds  me  of  some 
we  saw.  One  was  an  elegant  cortege  headed 
by  a  street  car  draped  in  black,  drawn  by 
two  black  horses.  This  bore  the  coffin ;  thus 
is  a  man  of  wealth  laid  away.  The  less  well- 
to-do  people  set  the  coffin  on  a  sort  of  cart 
pulled  by  an  unpretentious  burro,  which 
transports  it  to  the  city  of  the  dead.  Some 
are  so  poor  that  the  relatives  or  friends  have 
to  carry  the  coffin  between  them.  I  saw  a 
pathetic  sight  one  day.  A  man  had  a  tiny 
coffin  on  his  shoulder,  and  trudged  along, 
followed  by  a  weeping  woman  and  two  chil- 


1 8       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

dren  with  wide  open,  wondering  eyes.  I 
supposed  this  to  be  a  broken  family  circle. 

Thursday  carae  all  too  soon,  and  in  the 
evening  I  went  with  reluctant  feet  to  my 
new  home.  They  met  us  in  the  most  friendly 
manner,  the  Senora  patting  my  cheek  and 
saying  that  word  simpatica  again.  I  after- 
ward learned  that  it  has  no  exact  English 
equivalent.  Literally  translated  it  means 
"thoroughly  in  sympathy  with,  by  manners 
and  appearance."  The  wife  oif  an  American 
Consul  in  IMexico  said  that  she  had  discov- 
ered it  to  mean  simply  "all  right." 

Seating  guests  is  a  laborious  if  pleasant 
ceremony.  Visitor  and  host  vie  with  each 
other  in  politeness — extending  their  hands 
deprecatingly — patting  one  another  on  the 
shoulder  and  smiling  winningly.  The  right- 
hand  end  of  the  sofa,  that  most  cherished 
piece  of  furniture,  is  always  reserved  for 
the  guest  of  honor,  as  is  the  right  side  of 
the  seat  of  a  carriage.  The  host  always  re- 
signs his  seat  at  the  table  to  a  guest. 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       19 

Every  one  tried  to  look  pleasant  and  un- 
concerned, but  when  the  cathedral  clock 
struck  nine,  my  friends  rose  to  go,  for  the 
train  left  at  ten.  I  bore  up  bravely  until  I 
had  said  good-bye  to  the  last  one;  then, 
bursting  into  tears,  I  wailed :  "Oh,  take  me 
back  home  with  you !" 

They  came  back  and  talked  a  few  minutes 
longer,  and  actually  considered  my  return- 
ing with  them  until  visions  of  my  ignomini- 
ous failure  rose  before  me  should  I  return 
home  after  my  long-founded  determina- 
tion to  come  and  carry  out  my  cherished 
dream.  I  thought  of  the  persuasion  it  had 
taken  to  carry  my  point,  so  I  said  "No." 
But  when  the  carriage  bore  them  away,  I 
sank  down  in  an  abandonment  of  grief, 
which  greatly  distressed  my  sympathetic 
new  friends.  "Pohrecita  senorita  solita'' 
("poor  little  girl  all  alone")  the  Seilora 
would  murmur  prettily  as  she  patted 
my  wet  cheek,  and  the  "pohrecita  se- 
norita   soUta"    nestled    very    willingly    in 


20       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

the  motherly  arms,  listening,  uncon- 
sciously comforted,  to  the  endearing 
words.  They  hovered  over  me  caressingly, 
even  trying  to  dry  my  constantly  refilling 
eyes,  until,  finally,  I  had  to  laugh.  Then 
they  took  me  to  my  room,  where  I  was 
greeted  by  the  sight  of  my  trunks.  I  was 
deep  in  admiration  of  the  old  family  por- 
traits, rope-rockers,  the  stone  floor  with  its 
bright  native  rugs,  and  open  iron-barred 
windows  with  real  June  roses  peeping  mod- 
estly in,  when  I  heard  the  clock  strike  ten. 
Then  I  faltered  out  ^'adios^'  and  crawled  into 
bed  to  bury  my  face  in  the  pillow  and  sob 
myself  to  sleep,  for  I  knew  my  friends  had 
gone,  that  I  was  alone,  "a  stranger  in  a 
strange  land."  I  was  seriously  doubting 
whether  I  cared  much  about  learning  Span- 
ish after  all,  when  I  fell  asleep  to  the  far- 
away strains  of  that  plaintive  song  "La 
Golondrina.'* 

I  was  awakened  next  morning  by  hearing 
a    voice    call:     "Senorita,    Senorita,"    at 


An  American  Girl  in   Mexico.       21 

my  window,  and,  peeping  out,  saw  the  same 
brown  face  that  had  greeted  us  upon  out 
arrival,  only  now  it  was  brightened  by  a 
smile  of  recognition  and  friendliness. 
Soon  there  came  a  knock  at  the  door. 
A  girl  entered,  who  silently  took  me 
by  the  hand,  led  me  to  the  bathroom,  filled 
the  tub  from  the  deep  well  by  the  door  and 
brought  my  clothes.  After  my  bath  she 
started  to  arrange  my  hair,  but  I  insisted  on 
doing  this  myself,  for  I  had  never  in  my 
life  had  a.  maid.  I  marveled  at  the  number 
of  servants  I  had  already  seen,  but  later 
learned  that  the  poor  domestics  are  paid 
almost  nothing  for  their  services,  so  that  the 
price  a  family  in  the  States  would  pay  a 
cook  would  there  keep  almost  a  half  dozen 
servants.  The  cook  of  this  household,  a  fat, 
good-natured  woman,  who  came  at  seven  in 
the  morning  and  left  at  eleven  at  night,  was 
paid  ten  Mexican  dollars  monthly,  which  is 
a  little  more  than  four  of  our  money.  She 
prepared  breakfast,  served  coffee  at  eleven 


22       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

o'clock,  luncheon  at  one,  a  merenda  at 
five,  and  at  eight  dinner  is  served  in  courses. 
Sieiior  Carlos  seldom  came  in  until  ten, 
when  she  would  prepare  a  fresh  meal  for 
him.  But  a  happier  soul  than  Luz  it  would 
be  hard  to  find.  The  boy  who  answered  the 
bell  was  her  son,  a  dwarfed  creature  of  six- 
teen, with  a  solemn  face  many  years  too 
old  for  the  little  body.  If  one  could  have  a 
dollaf  for  every  step  Pedro  took  during  the 
day,  pacing-  back  and  forth  with  fortiUas, 
that  person  would  be  rich  indeed,  yet  he  re- 
ceived only  two  dollars  and  fifty  cents  a 
month,  Mexican  money,  for  all  that  work. 
When  one  sees  these  conditions — sees  faith- 
ful sewing  girls  work  twelve  hours  a  day 
for  twenty-five  cents,  Mexican  money,  and 
only  skilled  hands  receive  more,  eating 
their  dinner  with  the  servants,  and  be- 
ing in  every  way  treated  without  considera- 
tion, the  heart  is  filled  with  pity. 

In  a  household  of  affluence  there  is  hardly 
a  limit  to  the  number  of  servants.    At  least 


A   SMAIJ-  BURDEN   FOR  A   PEON. 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       23 

in  a  pretentious  home  may  always  be  found 
a  portero  (doorkeeper),  cochcro  (coach- 
man), recmnerera  (chambermaid),  lavmi- 
dera  (laundress),  planchaclora  (ironing 
woman),  cahalletmngo  (hostler),  mozo 
(cheerful  runner  of  all  errands),  cocinera 
(cook),  molendera  (woman  Avho  grinds 
corn ) ,  and,  most  pompous  of  all,  the  lucayo, 
or  footman.  Families  leading  a  more  mod- 
est existence  endure  the  hardships  of  having 
but  five  or  six  servants.  A  lady  never  sum- 
mons her  help  except  by  slapping  the  hands 
quickly  together;  this  method  is  also  used 
in  the  streets  for  calling  an  inferior.  Serv- 
ants call  their  mistress  Nina,  which  means 
baby  or  child.  It  is  pathetic  to  hear  them, 
when  rebuked,  remonstrate  gently,  "'piies 
nina"  (but  baby).  In  beckoning,  a  Mex- 
can  turns  the  palm  of  his  hand  outward — 
the  exact  reverse  of  our  motion. 

The  peons  subsist  entirely  on  the  clammy 
cold  tortillas  and  the  native  boiled  frijole 
beans,  enough  of  which  can  be  bought  for 


24       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

a  few  pennies  to  feed  a  family  all  day.  No 
housekeeper  furnishes  her  servants  any 
other  food  than  this.  Perhaps  this  is  the 
reason  that  Pedro,  who  carried  tortillas, 
answered  the  bell,  aroused  the  household 
and  announced  meals,  presented  what 
seemed  to  me  such  an  old,  unsmiling  face  for 
a  child. 

I  shall  never  forget  one  detail  of  that  first 
breakfast.  Seiior  Carlos  bowed  low,  and 
pinned  a  spray  of  oranc^e  blossoms  on  me, 
and  the  girls  laughed,  when  T,  not  realizing 
its  inappropriateness,  said  ^'adios.-'  Their 
mother  shook  her  head  at  them  covertly,  and, 
patting  me  on  the  cheek,  called  me  ''Bijita 
Americana  ''  which  means  "little  American 
daughter."  They  had  expressed  themselves 
to  our  mutual  friend  as  eager  to  learn  Eng- 
lish, assigning  this  as  their  reason  for  re- 
ceiving me  into  their  home,  for  they  are  a 
people  strangely  averse  to  admitting  outsid- 
ers to  their  households.  I  foresaw  that  they 
would  learn  no  English,  and  i\\vj  never  even 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.    25 

made  an  attempt  after  Senor  Carlos'  first 
and  last  effort.  He  walked  up  to  me  one 
day,  and  with  a  sweeping  bow,  said  in  Eng- 
lish: "Senorita,  to-day  a  full  bite.  Go?"  I 
should  not  have  understood  enough  to  laugh 
if  I  had  not  already  been  reading  about  the 
big  bull-fight.  When  he  realized  that  he 
had  made  a  mistake,  he  laughed  too,  but 
never  attempted  another  sentence  in  Eng- 
lish. SeSor  Carlos  never  for  a  moment  for- 
got his  elegant  manners  and  bows.  He  was 
always  as  attentive  as  on  that  first  morning 
at  breakfast,  when  everything  seemed  so 
strange  and  new  to  me.  Senora  asked  if  I 
wanted  leche  de  ccibra  or  leclie  de  vaca, 
which  means  goat's  milk  or  cow's  milk,  but 
as  I  couldn't  understand,  she  had  me  taste 
a  little  of  each.  One  almost  took  mv  breath 
away  with  its  strong  and  peculiar  flavor. 
This  I  hastily  rejected,  and  wondered  how 
the  family  could  prefer  it  I  never  learned 
to  drink  leclie  de  cobra. 

In  the  primitive  kitchen  of  every  house- 


26       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

hold  can  be  seen  a  metute,  a  ponderous 
kitchen  essential,  that  is  cut  from  gray 
stone,  and  is  hollowed  out  like  a  shallow  pan. 
The  boiled  corn  for  making  tortillas  and 
tamales  is  crushed  in  this. 

Of  course,  the  cooking  was  unlike  Amer- 
ican cooking.  The  eggs  were  made  into  lit- 
tle highly  peppered  pats,  and  the  steak  was 
so  flavored  with  herbs  that  I  could  hardly 
force  it  down.  Bread,  butter  and  coffee  were 
the  only  things  that  seemed  natural,  and 
the  butter  may  have  been  made  from  goat's 
milk.  My  first  dinner  impressed  me  even 
more,  so  much  so  that  I  made  out  a  menu 
card  and  sent  it  home  by  the  next  mail. 

First,  they  had  consomme,  as  they  called 
it,  though  unlike  any  consomme  I  had  ever 
eaten.  The  value  of  this  dish  Avas  not  en- 
hanced in  my  eyes  when  they  chopped  ba- 
nanas into  it.  Then  came  the  funniest  jum- 
ble of  a  dish  which  they  call  "cosida/'  It 
was  brought  in  on  a  big  platter,  and,  as 
nearly  as  I  could  guess,  was  a  concoction  of 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       27 

boiled  Irish  potatoes  chopped  in  small 
squares,  beets,  carrots,  small  pieces  of  meat, 
bits  of  roasting  ear,  cauliflower  and  peaches ! 
I  tried  to  look  pleased  as  I  ate  it,  but  I  seri- 
ously doubt  if  I  did.  'Tis  needless  to  say  the 
flavor  was  unusual.  Then  the  plates  were  re- 
moved and  roast  beef  served,  every  conceiva- 
ble cranny  of  it  filled  with  raisins — raisins 
to  right  of  it,  raisins  to  left  of  it — and  they 
ate  this  with  such  evident  enjoyment,  pick- 
ing out  the  raisins  carefully  on  the  ends  of 
their  forks,  that  it  reminded  me  of  little 
"Jack  Horner"  and  his  plum.  I  am  fond 
of  roast  beef,  and  of  raisins,  but  I  confess 
I  prefer  them  separate. 

Next  came  a  salad,  which  was  delicious. 
It  was  made  of  cold  sliced  tongue,  chopped 
olives,  celery  and  lettuce,  with  mayonnaise 
dressing.  Then  w^e  had  boiled  roasting 
ears  and  aguacates — something  which  is 
a  cross  between  a  fruit  and  a  nut,  \\ith  flesh 
that  is  about  the  consistency  of  butter  that 
has  been  on  ice,  but  so  impressed  was  I  with 


28       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

their  resemblance  in  color  to  cuticura  oint- 
ment that  I  never  learned  to  eat  them. 

After  this  we  had  cheese  and  macaroni, 
liberally  sprinkled  with  red  pepper.  The 
inevitable  '^frijole"  beans  followed  this 
course. 

They  are  served  three  times  a  day.  This 
dish  is  to  a  Mexican  what  baked  beans  are  to 
a  Bostonian.  These  are  first  boiled  ten- 
der, then  poured  into  a  stew  pan  of  smok- 
ing lard ;  when  they  have  absorbed  as  much 
of  the  grease  as  possible,  they  are  served. 

Fancy  the  effect  this  dish  would  have  on 
the  digestion  three  times  a  day  for  three 
hundred  and  sixty-five  days,  or  a  whole 
lifetime,  I  suppose,  as  I  never  saw  a  meal 
without  them. 

The  next  course  was  a  mixture,  half  ba- 
nanas, and  half  boiled  sweet  potatoes  with 
whipped  cream.  Then  came  nuts  and 
several  kinds  of  wine. 

Closing  my  eyes  I  can  see  that  table  be- 
fore me  now.     The  little  boy  trotting  back 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       29 

and  forth  with  hot  tortillas,  which  if  you 
don't  eat  will  be  a  stack  of  ten  or  twelve  by 
the  end  of  the  meal;  the  pigeons  flutter- 
ing and  cooing  about  us,  and  the  soft  chat- 
ter of  that  musical  language,  then  so 
strange  and  unintelligible  to  me. 


30       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Mexico  is  well  named  "the  land  of  the 
manana.^'  No  matter  what  a  person  wants 
it  is  promised  manafia,  which  means  "to- 
morrow." If  the  laundry  is  sent  it  is  in- 
variably with  the  assurance  that  it  will  be 
brought  back  inananci — and  usually  many 
mananas  pass  before  it  is  brought  back. 
Sefiora  decided  to  have  a  new  well  dug,  as 
the  old  one  had  been  in  use  a  hundred  and 
forty  years  since  the  house  was  built  for  a 
bride  long  years  in  her  grave.  She  sent  for 
the  well-digger,  and  when  she  asked  him 
how  long  before  he  could  have  it  ready,  his 
prompt  reply  was  manafta. 

Another  set  expression  is  quien  sdbc  and 
means  "who  knows?"     This,  with  a  Frenchy 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       31 

little  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  is  the  response 
to  most  questions  put  to  peons,  who,  not 
caring  to  take  the  trouble  of  informing 
themselves  on  most  subjects  find  this  the 
easiest  way  to  reply.  It  is  told  that  an 
American  who  did  not  know  the  meaning 
of  these  two  very  useful  phrases  had  heard 
manuna  frequently.  One  morning  when 
out  for  a  drive  he  asked  the  coachman  a 
number  of  questions,  chiefly  concerning 
some  business  houses  they  were  passing. 
The  answer  each  time  was,  "Qiiicii  scibcf' 
Presently  a  funeral  procession  passed  and 
he  asked  "Whose  funeral?''  "Qiden,  sahe^' 
was  the  answer.  "Thank  heavens  that  old 
fellow  is  dead,"  he  said.  "I  only  wish  old 
^manana'  would  follow  him." 

^'Vuclvo  en  uii  momentito"  (I  return  in 
one  moment),  the  Mexican  says,  extending 
his  hand  with  thumb  and  forefinger  almost 
touching,  to  express  how  small  a  time  "wn 
momentito"  is. 

With  all  their  shrugs  and  gesticulations 


32       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

the  French  cannot  express  half  what  the 
Mexicans  do  by  their  peculiar  gestures. 
With  mouth  drawn  down  at  the  corners, 
•head  to  one  side,  hand  extended  on  the 
other  side,  palm  upward,  they  stamp  the 
individual  under  consideration  undeniably 
^'^no  hucno."  A  tightly  clenched  fist  and 
squinted  eyes  convey  the  idea  that  he  is 
"muy  apretadiy"  (very  stingy)  ;  a  little 
clawing  motion  says  plainly  "He  is  a 
thief."  Mexicans  would  be  helpless  with- 
out the  expression  ''^no  es  costumhre^'  (it  is 
not  the  custom). 

^'No  cs  costiinihre/'  a  lady  will  tell  you 
disdainfully,  if  you  diverge  a  fraction  from 
their  most  trivial  social  law — more  binding 
than  those  of  the  Medes  and  Persians. 

^^No  es  costutnhrc"  is  hurled  at  you  by  the 
meekest  cook  if  instructed  to  pick  up  a  pin 
aside  from  the  duties  designated  when  she 
was  hired. 

One  day  on  the  plaza  I  saw  an  American, 
in  a  spirit  of  fun,  hand  a  little  bootblack  a 


TAKING    A    SLX    BATH    BF.K()KK    JHEIK    I'ALM  HUT. 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.    33 

hi?]:,  awkward  penny  instead  of  the  dainty 
silver  five-cent  piece  due  him.  The  big 
eyes  filled  with  tears  before  he  could  enter 
protest  with  the  inevitable  ^'No  es  costiim- 
hre,  ^enor,  no  es  costumbre  a  pager  menos 
que  cinco  centavos — luia  ccntavo  nunca, 
Senor;  no  es  costumbre.''^  (It  is  not  the 
custom  to  pay  less  than  five  cents — one 
cent  never,  Mister ;  it  is  not  the  custom. ) 

These  waifs  are  as  precocious  and  amus- 
ing as  our  little  Americans  in  the  same  sta- 
tion of  life.  There  was  one  who  never 
passed  me  on  the  plaza  without  smiling 
winningly  and  saying,  "Shine,  Mister?"  in 
faultless,  bootblack  English. 

They  have  a  way  of  calling  a  girl  or  boy 
who  is  the  victim  of  an  unrequited  love  a 
calahasa,  which  means  "pumpkin."  Also 
a  person  showing  jealousy  is  a  calahasa. 

Old  maids  go  by  the  euphonious  title  of 
solteras,  and  young  men  are  gallinos 
(young  roosters).  The  dude,  habitu^  of 
street  corners  in  every  land,  is  there  called 


34       An  American  Girl  In  Mexico. 

"■lagartijo''  (lizard),  because  he  basks  so 
lazily  in  the  sunshine.  But  how  much  less 
disagreeable  to  be  called  a  lagartijo  than  a 
dude. 

The  girls  wash  their  hair  every  other  day 
in  summer,  and  go  into  town  with  it  stream- 
ing damp,  down  their  backs  like  mermaids. 
I  asked  Concepcion  one  day  if  she  was  not 
ashamed  to  do  this.  "Ashamed?"  she 
asked.  "Why  should  I  be  ashamed?  Every 
one  knows  I  have  to  wash  my  hair." 
It  may  be  a  consequence  of  the  frequent 
washing  or  the  good  airing,  but  they  usually 
have  lovely  hair. 

On  entering  a  store  a  Mexican  girl  shakes 
hands  with  every  clerk,  and  if  they  have 
been  there  only  two  minutes  they  shake 
again  on  leaving.  These  shopping  excur- 
sions are  usually  quite  pleasant  '^visifas/^ 
The  girls  take  their  seats  and  chat  freely 
for  some  time  before  their  little  hands  reach 
over  the  counter  for  "adios'' ;  yet  under  no 
circumstances  would  a  girl  from  a  repre- 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       35 

sentative  family  bow  to  a  clerk  on  the 
plazas.  Why  they  are  at  liberty  to  chat  so 
openly  in  the  stores  together  I  do  not  know, 
unless  for  practice  in  conversation. 

Shopping  is  a  delight  in  Mexico.  There 
is  a  certain  amount  of  pleasure  to  be  derived 
from  such  expeditions  in  the  most  remote 
village.  What  though  you  can't  find  every- 
thing! There  are  dainty,  lovely  ^"tiras  hor- 
daclcs''  (embroideries)  and  "tercio  j}clo'' 
(velvet)  in  every  shop,  and  clerks  so  glad  to 
haul  down  endless  stacks  of  things,  smiling 
and  flattering  you  delightfully  all  the  while. 
The  silks  and  laces  from  France  are  a  joy 
to  the  heart  feminine,  in  their  snowy 
masses  and  intricate  beautiful  weaves. 
Such  cobweb  patterns  are  not  to  be  found 
on  this  side  of  the  Rio  Grande.  The  stores 
keep  a.  very  limited  supply  of  shoes  {'^'zapa- 
tos")  in  larger  sizes,  for  their  feet  are  char- 
acteristically tiny,  and  a  clerk  will  try  un- 
hesitatingly to  crowd  a  number  four  foot 
into  a  number  two  shoe,  assuring  you  it  will 


36       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico 

soon  stretch,  and  be  too  large,  and  seem 
surprised  if  they  cannot  convince  you.  I 
spent  hours  shopping  for  my  ^^zajmiosr  for, 
unfortunately,  I  did  not  number  among 
those  who  could  wear  a  Mexican  size,  and 
there  is  nothing  Chinese  about  my  idea  as 
to  how  a  shoe  should  fit. 

Their  millinery  is  lovely,  but  no  one  less 
wealthy  than  a  Rothschild  would  fail  to 
frown  at  the  fabulous  prices  they  ask  for 
the  dainty,  perishable  creations  they  offer. 
^'Florcs,  fores/'  but  the  nominal  figure  at 
which  flowers  can  be  bought  in  the  streets 
has  nothing  to  do  with  the  ridiculously  high 
prices  of  the  ^'florcs"  in  a  millinery  estab- 
lishment. Hats  are  a  novelty  to  them  yet. 
It  has  been  such  a  little  time  since  they 
knew  no  headwear  but  the  graceful  man- 
tilla. 

One  day  when  the  ways  and  the  language 
of  the  Mexicans  was  very,  very  new  to  me, 
I  went  into  La  Predilecta  (The  Favorite) 
to  buy  a  hat.    I  was  full  of  confidence,  and 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       37 

it  never  occurred  to  me  that  every  necessary 
word  was  not  at  my  command.  But  I  was 
helpless  when  I  tried  to  ask  for  a  winter 
hat.     Where  was  that  word  for  "winter"? 

"Sombrero?"  (hat)  I  asked,  timidly. 

"Si,  si,"  ("yes,  yes"),  the  obsequious 
clerk  answered,  and  before  I  had  time  to 
remonstrate,  pulled  down  box  after  box  of 
summer  hats. 

"No,  no,"  I  objected,  "otros  sombreros" 
(other  hats).  Then  he  pulled  down  still 
more  of  the  gay,  beflowered  ones.  I  looked 
helplessly  from  side  to  side  for  some  aid  in 
my  dilemma.  Pointing  to  a  piece  of  wool 
goods  I  asked : 

"Que  es  esta?"  (what  is  this?)  "Lano" 
(wool),  was  the  answer.  "Sombrero  lano?" 
( wool  hat )  I  asked.  The  clerk  tried  to  hide 
his  mirthful  face  by  stooping  under  the 
counter  a  moment.  When  he  raised  himself 
up  he  shook  his  head  slowly.  "Este?" 
(This?)  I  asked,  pointing  to  a  piece  of  silk. 
"Sedo"     (silk),    he    answered,    promptly. 


38    An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

"Sombrero  sedo?"  I  asked,  still  more  hesi- 
tatingly. Again  he  darted  down  under  the 
counter,  this  time  for  a  much  longer  stay, 
and  the  smile  was  not  all  gone  when  he 
emerged  this  time.  "Sombrero  por  el  frio?" 
(hat  for  the  cold),  I  asked,  desperately,  but 
he  only  laughed  more  and  declared  that  they 
had  no  cold  there,  so  I  went  home  and  con- 
tinued to  wear  my  summer  hat.  As  the  sea- 
sons are  not  marked  they  wear  summer 
and  winter  hats  interchangeably. 

A  clerk  bolts  over  the  counter  in  leap- 
frog fashion  if  there  is  anything  in  the 
show  cases  you  wish  to  see.  At  the  end  of 
a  visit  he  will  often  give  a  regalo  to  the 
customer,  which  is  not  often  anything  more 
valuable  than  a  cheap  little  fan,  or,  perhaps, 
a  bunch  of  tangled  baby  ribbon ;  but  they  be- 
stow it  as  if  it  were  a  string  of  pearls.  Their 
stores  are  all  named ;  also  their  cantinas 
or  saloons.  One  I  saw  was  called 
"The  Triumph  of  the  Devil."  A  drug 
store     bore     the     name     "The     Gate     to 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       39 

Heaven."  No  girl  takes  a  position  as 
clerk  in  Mexico,  Even  the  people  at  the 
telephone  stations  are  men.  I  learned  that 
"anilW  means  ring ;  so  when  I  tried  to  call 
for  600-2  rings,  I  said  'T>00  dos  aniUasJ'  At 
my  repeated  call  the  central  grew  annoyed 
and  hung  up  the  receiveir.  I  afterward 
learned  that  anilla  means  only  a  ring  for  the 
finger,  and  llamada  means  the  ring  of  a 
telephone. 

The  way  things  were  delivered  always 
struck  me  as  so  ridiculous,  A  man  would 
come  down  the  narrow  little  street  with  a 
basket  on  his  back,  and  Luz  would  hail  him 
and  run  out  to  buy  her  vegetables  for  the 
day.  Frequently  I  have  seen  her  purchase 
one  potato,  or  a  half  tomato,  and  the  man 
seemed  to  think  it  all  right;  ever^^body  did, 
but  it  would  always  occur  to  me  how  ridicu- 
lous an  American  would  seem  buying  half 
a  tomato.  Even  wood  they  buy  by  the 
armload,  and  I  have  seen  a  man  stagger- 
ing under  the  weight  of  a  sideboard  or  iron 


40       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

bed,  for  they  have  no  moving  vans.  They 
even  bring  trunks  from  the  station  on  their 
backs.  My  mirth  knew  no  bounds  when 
one  day  a  man  came  leading  a  goat  through 
the  front  hall  and  out  to  the  kitchen, 
"Quantof  he  asked,  and  Luz  replied,  ^'■Diez 
centavosJ'  When  he  had  milked  a  measure 
full  she  paid  her  dime,  and  he  led  his  goat 
on  to  the  next  house. 

A  housekeeper  trusts  her  cook  to  do  all 
the  buying  for  the  kitchen.  It  is  beneath 
a  lady  of  quality  to  be  seen  marketing,  so 
the  cook  is  every  day  furnished  with  small 
change  for  this,  and  I  really  doubt  if  their 
wages  are  so  meagre  after  all,  for  the  poor 
are  not  exceedingly  scrupulous.  It  is  easier 
to  obtain  forgiveness  than  tortillas. 

No  supplies  are  kept  on  hand.  Pedro 
would  have  to  run  down  tO'  the  corner  to 
buy  a  cornijcopia  of  lard  or  fiour  before 
each  meal.  No  housekeeper  is  so  reckless 
as  to  keep  even  these  staples  on  hand,  with 
so  many  nimble  fingers  about.     One  of  Luz' 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       41 

most  eloquent  memories  was  her  trip  to  San 
Antonio,  Texas,  where  she  spent  one  sum- 
mer cooking  in  a  hospital  at  twelve  dollars 
a  month.  She  never  tired  of  telling  about 
it,  and  her  eyes  would  grow  big  at  the  re- 
membrance, when  she  would  clasp  her  fat 
brown  hands  and  say  ^'Muclio  dinero  por 
Lu:; — miicho  dinero."  (Much  money  for 
Luz.) 

She  was  called  home  from  this  Elysian 
field  by  an  invalid  husband,  who  had  be- 
come so  ill  that,  one  day  she  announced 
to  the  Senora  that  she  must  stay  at  home 
with  him  until  he  died;  adding  that  he 
didn't  seem  to  be  going  to  die  soon  either. 

The  first  day  of  her  absence  there  was 
consternation  in  the  household,  for  a  cook 
couldn't  be  found.  At  luncheon  hour  I  of- 
fered, in  my  best  Spanish,  to  help.  Not  one 
of  them  knew  a  thing  about  cooking,  and  I 
smiled  to  myself,  thinking  how  they  would 
enjoy  my  broiled  steak,  for  back  in  sensible 
Texas  I  had  attended  a  practical  cooking 


42       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

school  that  was  held  in  my  mother's  kitchen 
every  day.  I  made  delicious  milk  toast, 
creamed  some  potatoes,  and  cooked 
squashes.  They  thought  the  word  squash, 
which  it  was  impossible  for  them  to 
pronounce,  as  funny  as  I  found  '^ropa  viejo^' 
(old  clothes),  a  name  they  give  to  a  sort  of 
meat  pie,  a  very  popular  dish,  made  from 
scraps  of  cold  meat  and  smothered  in 
herbs.  They  thought  my  skill  quite  wonder- 
ful, particularly  the  Senora,  who  had  mar- 
ried at  thirteen,  and  had  as  little  culinary 
knowledge  now  as  then.  But  they  could 
not  enjoy  steak  cooked  without  herbs.  The 
Senora,  determined  not  to  wound  my  feel- 
ings, took  a  liberal  piece,  and,  cutting  it  in 
bits,  poured  vinegar  over  it.  And  I  had  ex- 
pected those  poor  starved  creatures  to  fall 
on  my  delicately  broiled  steak  like  hungry 
wolves. 

At  dinner  time  a  new  cook,  innocent  of 
the  benefits  of  a  comb  and  a  bath,  took 


Jill-;    "  .\\>V.\   FKKSCA    '    MAN. 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       43 

charge;  but  we  were  glad  indeed  when  Luz 
returned  in  a  few  days.  She  came  one 
morning  to  get  four  dollars  to  go  into 
mourning,  for  her  husband  had  at  last  died ; 
her  usually  round  face  looked  long  as  she 
told  us  of  the  event.  That  evening  she  re- 
turned, dressed  in  a  cheap  black  print  which 
she  had  bought  already  made,  on  the  market, 
and  Pedro  had  a  piece  of  cheap  crepe  on  his 
hat.  In  less  than  a  week  I  heard  the  old 
loud  happy  laugh  of  Luz,  and  going  out  in 
astonishment,  found  her  teasing  Josef,  the 
yardman,  telling  him  that  he  would  be  the 
new  husband  of  Luz. 

The  day  of  her  husband's  death  she  had 
much  regretted  that  she  was  too  poor  to 
have  funeral  notices,  but  this  was  now  for- 
gotten. Their  funeral  notices  are  almost  as 
large  as  a  small  newspaper,  as  are  their 
wedding  invitations,  which  are  engraved  on 
a  large  double  sheet  of  ragged  edged  linen 
paper.  On  the  inside,  to  the  left,  the 
groom's  family  requests  your  presence;  on 


44       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

the  right,  the  bride's  family  extend  their 
invitation. 

On  New  Year's  day  they  send  out  engrav- 
ed cards  wishing  their  friends  a  happy  and 
prosperous  year ;  a  family  always  mails  an- 
nouncement cards  at  the  birth  of  a  child. 
When  it  is  a  month  old  friends  call  and  scat- 
ter confetti  over  the  baby's  cradle.  Confetti 
is  bright  bits  of  paper  in  sacks.  I  never 
learned  the  significance  of  this  custom. 

Ladies  embrace  on  meeting  and  kiss  on 
either  cheek.  Men  embrace  and  pat  each 
other  on  the  back  affectionately. 

Certain  amusements  appeal  forcibly  to 
the  Mexicans.  A  circus  may  with  impunity 
camp  in  a  town  for  weeks,  sure  that  the  tent 
will  be  crowded  every  night.  However,  the 
circuses  there  are  superior  to  anything  we 
have  in  Los  Estados  IJnidos.  The  great  Or- 
rin  circus  is  always  a  drawing  card. 
Everybody  goes.  Fathers  do  not  use  their 
children  for  excuses,  as  Americans  do,  but 
go  eagerly  night  after  night.    With  as  much 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       45 

time  as  polish  they  can  thus  spend  hours 
very  agreeably.  Stores  are  always  closed 
fully  two  hours  for  dinner,  and,  half  dozing 
through  the  sleepy  afternoon  the  affable 
clerks  are  most  indifferent  to  sales.  Above 
all  else  the  theatres  there  have  one  inimita- 
ble charm — the  graceful  serpentine  play  of 
a  shawl  in  the  hands  of  some  dark-eyed  Se- 
iiorita — her  silken  rehozo  woven  in  shades 
seldom  seen  save  in  a  brilliant  sunset — a 
beautiful  careless  mingling  of  hues  that  har- 
monize in  their  very  dissimilarity. 

There  is  a  quaint  little  dance  called 
^'Danza  de  sombrero/'  among  '^'^los  pobres" 
that  is  most  alluring.  The  sombrero  or  hat 
is  placed  on  the  floor,  and  a  girl  and  boy 
dance  around  it,  in  and  out — darting  near — 
gliding  away — their  supple  bodies  swaying 
as  if  by  a  breeze,  as  they  snap  their  fingers 
close  to  the  sombrero  and  smile  charmingly, 
tauntingly  at  each  other.  'Tis  a  beautiful, 
typical  dance,  without  any  seeming  signifi- 
cance— the  girl  in  her  short  bright  skirt, 


46       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

buckled  slippers,  and  bare  brown  arms — the 
boy  in  blouse,  long  trousers,  and  brilliant 
sash. 

What  a  place  of  interest  a  Mexican  mar- 
ket is !  I  went  down  often  and  elbowed  my 
way  through  its  throngs.  One  always  sees 
lots  of  Americans  there  shopping,  with 
big  market  baskets  hung  independently  on 
their  arms.  Such  a  conglomeration  of  toys 
— beautiful  pottery  that  costs  almost  noth- 
ing— kitchen  utensils,  household  things, 
clothes,  trinkets — candy  made  of  goat  milk 
and  sugar,  hats,  canes  and  every  imaginable 
and  unimaginable  article — a  heterogeneous 
collection  of  the  useful  and  useless.  The 
air  is  intoxicatingly  sweet  with  the  per- 
fume of  flowers  and  fruits.  For  a  few  cen- 
tavos  a  small  boy  can  gorge  to  the  utmost 
limit.  All  the  lower  class  wear  sandals,  and 
they  gather  in  hordes  to  bargain  for  these. 
Trousers  are  sold  here  all  the  way  from 
seventy-five  cents  to  seventy-five  dollars  per 
pair.    The  lower  class  or  peons,  wear  such 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       47 

odd  looking  trousers — bright-hued,  and  as 
tight  as  a  new  kid  glove,  a  size  smaller  than 
usual.  These  they  fasten  up  the  sides  witli 
colored  laces.  Of  course  the  upper  class 
buy  their  wearing  apparel  from  the 
shops,  patronizing  the  markets  only  for 
edibles.  Little  piles  of  potatoes,  pot- 
tery, hay,  English  peas  and  various  other 
things  obstruct  the  way — and  the  venders, 
sitting  patiently  beside  them  with  babies  ga- 
lore tumbling  over  them  and  scattering  the 
wares,  pull  at  your  skirts  as  you  pass  and 
beg  you  to  buy.  The  first  price  is  always 
startling,  but  they  will  often  drop  to  a  tenth 
of  the  original.  It  is  amusing  to  hear 
them  fall  and  fall  in  price  and  at  last,  with 
a  coaxing  toss  of  the  head,  inquire  what  you 
will  give,  sometimes  even  running  after  you 
for  a  block  urging  you  to  buy,  and  laughing 
good  naturedly  if  3'ou  do  not. 

A  temptation  I  could  never  resist  was  to 
stroll  from  stall  to  stall  conversing  with  the 
keepers.     They  are  so  simple,  they  would 


48       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

tell  of  their  joys  and  sorrows,  their  babies 
and  their  ambitions,  which  were  interesting, 
if  no  loftier  than  to  own  a  burro,  for  the 
study  of  human  nature  is  always  interest- 
ing. One  old,  wrinkled  woman  always  sat 
with  her  rooster  under  her  arm,  unless  he 
were  fighting;  she  became  one  of  my  stanch- 
est  friends.  She  did  not  hesitate  to  tell  me 
that  she  stole  the  rooster,  "he  was  such  a 
good  fighter,"  was  her  excuse,  and  then  she 
was  "muy  pobre"  She  would  hold  the  little 
game  fowl  up  proudly  each  time  for  my  in- 
spection, as  if  it  had  been  a  baby,  instead  of 
a  little  game  gallo. 

A  girl  had  a  stall  where  she  sold  only  lit- 
tle red  and  blue  pig  banks,  and  remembered 
me  always  with  such  a  bright  smile,  that  I 
almost  became  bankrupt  buying  her  little 
pigs.  There  are  few  of  my  friends  in  the 
United  States  who  have  not  a  pig  bank. 
Still  another  vender  always  slipped  a  packet 
of  cigarettes  into  my  basket,  and  refused 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       49 

pay.     A  few  friendly  speeches  and  smiles 
had  won  these  lowly  admirers. 

Small-pox  is  a  great  bugbear  among 
Americans  as  a  draw-back  to  Mexico,  but 
there  is  really  slight  danger  from  this  dis- 
ease. It  rages  among  the  slums ;  their  dirty 
hovels  and  unhygienic  mode  of  existence  in- 
vite disease,  but  the  death  rate  from  small- 
pox and  other  maladies  is  not  great  among 
cleanly  people.  The  peons  seem  to  have  little 
dread  of  it  and  I  think  regard  the  pits  it 
leaves  as  rather  ornamental.  FIrequently 
on  the  street  cars  one  sees  a  person  all  brok- 
en out,  and  here  lies  tlie  danger.  Becoming 
familiar  with  the  symptoms  of  the  disease  a 
person  can  avoid  contact  with  one  of  these 
victims,  and  need  feel  no  distress  of  mind 
thereafter.  Another  strange  thing  that  fre- 
quently takes  place  on  the  street  cars.  A 
man  will  take  out  his  cigarette  case,  and 
turning  toward  the  ladies  on  the  car  offers 
every  one  a  cigarette,  particularly  if  there 
are  any  American  ladies  present. 


50       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

Often  I  have  passed  a  woman  with  her 
whole  nut  brown  family  lined  up  on  the 
banks  of  a  little  stream — unclothed — while 
she  did  the  weekly  or  yearly  washing. 

One  day  I  yielded  to  the  entreaties  of  the 
family  and  went  to  a  bull  fight.  I  shall 
never  quite  forgive  myself  for  doing  so, 
though  I  did  not  then  realize  how  horrible  a. 
Mexican  bull  fight  can  be.  I  am  not 
ashamed  that  before  it  was  over  I  came  so 
near  fainting  they  had  to  sprinkle  me  with 
lemonade,  the  only  available  liquid,  and 
take  me  home.  I  cannot  understand  how  a 
human  being  can  sit  through  it,  though  I 
stayed  long  enough  to  see  six  bulls  and  nine 
Meeding  blindfolded  horses  tortured  to 
death.  A  magnificent  bull  comes  charging 
in,  infuriated  by  the  stinging  arrow  he  re- 
ceived as  he  passed  under  the  entrance  arch. 
He  vents  his  fury  upon  the  first  object  he 
spies,  and  when  one  knows  that  this  is  a 
poor  blindfolded  horse,  a  fraction  of  the 
cruelty  can  be  realized.     The  rider  pierces 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       51 

tlie  bull's  neck  with  numberless  sharp  ar- 
rows, and  as  the  horse  falls,  makes  his  es- 
cape amid  the  triumphant  yells  of  the  im- 
mense audience.  Sometimes  even  the  little 
rider  meets  his  death  and  becomes  a  hero 
in  the  eyes  of  all  present — but  a  dead  hero. 

It  is  all  a  kind  of  indistinct  horror  to  me. 
And  yet,  when  I  told  Senor  Carlos  that  it 
was  more  cowardice  than  bravery  that  en- 
abled one  to  sit  through  it,  he  laughed  and 
called  me  *'Pohrecita'^  (poor  little  girl,)  and 
said  it  was  not  half  so  cruel  as  prize  fight- 
ing, which  was  between  human  beings. 

"Ah,  it  is  grand  when  you  learn  to  under- 
stand it,"  he  said.  And  a  person  to  hear 
their  shouts  of  exultation  would  imagine 
something  of  the  grandeur  of  the  Passion 
Play  was  being  presented. 


52       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A  "swell"  wedding  took  place  just  before 
Lent,  and  I  was  invited  with  the  family.  It 
was  the  marriage  of  a  beautiful  girl,  typi- 
cally Spanish,  and  we  went  early  that  none 
of  the  spectacle  might  be  lost.  It  was  a  long 
and  impressive  ceremony,  and  the  cathedral 
was  like  a  flower  garden.  I  blushed  for 
shame  at  the  conduct  of  some  American 
tourists,  who,  having  gained  access  to  the 
church,  had  possessed  themselves  of  some  of 
the  best  pews,  and  when  the  bridal  party 
entered,  the  bride  with  bowed  head  walking 
slowly  to  the  font  of  holy  water,  her  glim- 
mering satin  train  trailing  after  her,  these 
Americans  deliberately  stood  up  in  their 
seats,  and  the  snap,  snap  of  their  obtrusive 
kodaks  broke  the  sacred  silence. 


V 


H 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       53 

Next  to  the  Briton  in  egotism  comes  the 
American,  and  because  they  consider  them- 
selve  essentially  pace  setters  and  privileged 
beings,  they  disregard  many  of  the  customs 
that  Mexicans  hold  inviolate — customs  that 
we  might  recognize  without  detracting  from 
our  self-respect  or  convenience.  Fre- 
quently troubles  arise  from  this  cause  that 
require  diplomatic  intervention. 

After  crossing  herself  and  kneeling  for  a 
blessing,  the  stately  bride  walked  the  length 
of  the  cathedral  alone  on  one  side,  under  the 
arches  of  ferns  and  lilies,  and  the  groom  on 
the  other.  Meeting  at  the  altar  they  knelt 
on  satin  pillows, — the  organ  burst  forth  in 
soft  music,  and  when  the  priest  had  blessed 
them,  he  pinned  a  piece  of  white  ribbon 
on  her  shoulder,  and  crossed  it  over  to 
her  fiance,  thus  uniting  them;  at  the  same 
time  drawing  a  fold  of  her  gauzy  veil 
about  the  bridegroom.  A  lengthy  ceremony 
in  Latin  followed,  to  the  accompaniment  of 
music.     The  ribbon  was  unpinned,  a  prayer 


54       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

offered,  and  the  happy  pair  marched  out  to 
the  strains  of  Mendelssohn's  Wedding 
March, — out  and  down  the  long  stone  walk 
and  rolled  away  in  one  of  the  gay  carriages 
to  which  were  harnessed  milk  white  horses 
with  white  ribbon  reins  and  beflowered 
bridles. 

The  first  point  is  always  the  photog- 
rapher's studio,  where  pictures  are  made  of 
them  in  some  adoring  attitude.  All  wed- 
dings take  place  in  the  early  morning, 
and  a  bride  is  never  married  in  any- 
thing but  white.  The  day  is  spent  in  gay- 
ety,  the  night  in  a  grand  ball,  and,  the  next 
morning,  after  the  civil  ceremony  has  con- 
summated the  marriage,  they  leave — leave, 
to  learn  whether  or  not  they  love  each  other. 
Alas,  that  so  often  it  should  be  a  rude 
awakening — a  falling  short  of  expectations, 
for  neither  knows  a  tiling  of  the  other's 
thoughts  and  ways.  What  if  in  the  harsh 
morning  light  the  wife  has  lost  the  halo  of 
enchantment  that  hung  over  the  face  be- 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       55 

hind  the  iron-barred  window.  Ah,  then  'tis 
the  same  old  story,  and  yet  they  will  not  be- 
lieve there  is  any  system  of  love-making 
better  than  theirs  that  to  us  seems  so  un- 
real and  so  like  child's  play,  but  to  them  is 
as  sacred  as  their  religion.  And  yet  before 
marriage  one  does  not  see  among  them  the 
inconstancy  that  we  find  among  matter-of- 
fact  Americans. 

A  girl  has  one  lover,  nor  dares  to  smile 
on  another.  Not  more  than  one  man  pays 
court  to  a  girl  at  once.  In  her  little  heart 
she  is  as  true  as  steel.  To  Rosita,  dark,  de- 
mure Rosita  of  our  household,  had  come  a 
note  of  strange  music — had  struck  a  shaft  of 
rosy  light,  but  'twas  over  now,  its  only 
footprint  being  an  added  wistfulness  to  the 
big  eyes — for  some  whispered  words  against 
her  lover  had  changed  her  dreams,  and  now 
her  evenings  are  often  dreary.  'Tis  a  land 
of  dreams,  and  why  not,  when  one  can  sit 
in  the  soft  sunlight  and  float  away  in  fancy 
upon  the  depth  on  depth  of  blue  above. 


56       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

One  Spaniard  told  me  he  spent  a  year  in 
Detroit,  where  he  made  many  American 
friends,  but  never  grew  accustomed  to  the 
"abominable  liberty"  of  our  girls. 

"It  may  not  be  the  custom  where  your 
home  is,  Seuorita,"  he  told  me,  "but  I  have 
seen  girls  there  from  the  very  best  families 
go  out  to  the  theatres  with  a  young  man 
alone,  not  a  member  of  her  family  with 
her!"  I  assured  him  that  I  had  seen  such 
things  myself. 

"To  us  this  robs  them  of  all  their  charm," 
he  said.  "I  was  so  happy  to  return  to 
Aguas  Calientes,  and  once  more  see  my 
sweetheart's  face  in  the  window,  like  an  an- 
gel's." His  face  softened  at  the  recollec- 
tion. Reaching  in  his  pocket  he  drew  a 
daintily  penned  letter  out  and  handing  it  to 
me,  said :  "From  my  dulce  carazon —  I  got 
it  to-day." 

Some  one  has  said  that  people  who  do  not 
know  Spanish  are  unable  to  express  but 
half  their  love,  and  truly  there  is  a  caress  in 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       57 

every  word  of  that  soft  language.  I  read 
the  adoring  little  letter  to  its  close,  where 
she  said:  "The  anr/clifas''  send  their  love. 

"Who  are  the  angelitasf  I  asked  in  won- 
der, 

"Her  little  ones,"  he  answered. 

"But  you^you  are  not  married?"  I 
asked. 

"No,  no,  but  she  is  married  to  a  man  she 
doesn't  love — she  loves  me — she  has  loved 
me  two  years,"  and  his  handsome  face 
showed  no  sign  of  shame  nor  confusion  at 
the  confession. 

It  is  really  a  tedious  matter  to  become 
married  in  Mexico,  with  the  several  cere- 
monies. One  interesting  feature  is  that  the 
bridegroom  furnishes  the  trousseau.  It 
seems  hardly  fair,  for  the  poor  man  has 
enough  of  that  ahead  of  him,  and  as  the 
father  naturally  supposes  it  is  about  the  last 
rifling  his  daughter  can  give  his  pocket,  he 
doesn't  mind  much,  but  the  Mexicans  think 
differently,  and  think  it  well  to  prepare  the 


58       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

husband.  He  sends  a  cheek  for  whatever 
amount  he  feels  able  to  give,  and  she  is  in 
honor  bound  not  to  use  her  father's  money. 
It  must  be  rather  an  embarrassing  matter 
for  the  bridegroom  to  decide  just  how  much 
to  send.  I  knew  one  girl,  a  member  of  a 
wealthy  family,  who  married  a  poor  man, 
and  when  the  check  came  it  was  a  question 
how  slie  would  be  able  to  get  her  clothes 
with  the  amount.  I  really  fear  that  I 
should  have  been  tempted  to  let  my  father 
add  a  little,  but  she  bought  an  inexpensive 
wedding  dress  and  simple  outfit,  thus  prov- 
ing herself  very  sweet  and  womanly. 

Not  infrequently  daughters  and  sons  will 
remain  after  marriage  under  the  parental 
roof  rather  than  endure  the  anguish  of 
breaking  these  ties;  if  a  son  establishes  a 
home  of  his  own  no  day  is  ever  too  short  to 
admit  of  his  making  a  little  visita  to  his 
mother.  The  trenchant  sword  of  jealousy 
strikes  at  a  mother's  heart  when  she  feels 
that  the  new  daughter  is  supplanting  her 


I'l.AVlNt;  THK  UKAR. 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       59 

in  the  son's  affections.  A  wife  in  Mexico  is 
supposed — however  young  she  assumes  such 
responsibilities — to  have  as  good  judgment 
as  her  husband,  and  is  never  subjected  to 
the  humiliation  of  begging  a  pittance  daily 
for  her  household  needs.  A  woman  of  caste 
there  could  not  be  self-sustaining  and  self- 
respecting.  When  a  man  marries  he  cheer- 
fully accepts  the  support  of  a  widowed 
mother  or  sister,  never  considering  their 
accomplishments  that  might  be  turned  to 
account. 

While  on  the  subject  of  marriages  I  must 
tell  all  about  their  courtships,  for  that  of 
Miles  Standish  was  no  stranger.  I  feel  par- 
ticularly well  versed  on  this  subject,  as  I 
had  a  love  affair  of  my  own,  if  such  it  may 
be  called.  One  day  I  noticed  whispering 
among  the  Seiiora  and  the  girls,  and,  as  it 
seemed  such  a  good  natured  whispering,  I 
begged  to  know  what  it  was  about.  Final- 
ly dear  Seiiora  said  "Let's  tell  her,"  so  they 
consented,  and  on  account  of  my  limited 


6o       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

knowledge  of  the  language  it  took  all  three 
to  explain  that  Seiior  Don  Eduardo  was  in 
love  with  me,  and  it  would  have  taken  three 
more  to  make  me  believe  it. 

"Who  is  Seuor  Don  Eduardo?"  I  asked, 
"and  how  do  you  know  that  he  is  in  love 
with  me?"  They  told  me  he  was  the  dark 
young  man  we  had  noticed  passing  and  re- 
passing the  house  every  day. 

"If  a  young  man  passes  a  house  several 
times  a  day  he's  in  love  with  some  one  in 
it,"  they  said. 

"But  why  not  with  one  of  you?"  I  en- 
quired, looking  admiringly  into  their  faces, 
for  both  were  unusually  pretty  girls,  though 
I  believe  I  loved  Concepcion  a  little  the  bet- 
ter. 

"Oh,  no,"  they  protested,  "we  have  been 
here  all  our  lives  and  have  always  known 
Seiior  Don  Eduardo,  and  he  has  never  done 
this  before."  They  were  unwilling  to  have 
their  romance  spoiled.  So  they  told  me  to 
walk  up  and  down  before  the  window  when 


An  American  Girl  in   Mexico.       6i 

he  came,  but  on  no  account  speak  to  him. 
This  I  obediently  did,  morning  and  evening, 
and  Seiior  Don  Eduardo  would  smile  on  me 
most  adoringly.  There  was  such  novelty  in 
the  experience  that  I  played  my  part  quite 
eommendably — at  any  rate,  after  three 
weeks  the  girls  declared  they  had  a  sec- 
rcto.  I  wheedled  them  until  they  told  me 
that  the  Senor  was  going  to  send  the  band 
to  serenade  me  at  midnight,  and  if  I  ap- 
plauded the  music  it  would  be  an  indication 
that  I  accepted  his  suit.  It  was  really 
unfair  to  him  for  me  to  be  told,  they  said, 
for  I  should  have  been  awakened  by  the 
strains  of  music,  but  I  eased  their  con- 
sciences by  advising  them  that  if  they  had 
not  told  me  I  would  more  than  likely  have 
slept  throughout  the  serenade. 

At  the  first  stroke  of  twelve  the  baud  be- 
gan, just  under  the  window,  plaj^ing  "To 
Thee" — a  beautiful  love  song — then,  "La- 
grimas  de  Amor'  ("Tears  of  Love,")  and 
others  equally  tender  and  pleading;  at  the 


62       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

close  I  applauded.  I  could  see  Seiior  Don 
Eduardo  listening,  hat  in  hand,  in  the  dis- 
tant moonlight.  To  me  the  whole  thing 
was  a  little  drama  that  I  had  thoughtlessly 
gone  into.  Even  my  applause  was  almost 
innocent.  For  several  mornings  and  even- 
ings after  this  he  paraded  before  my  win- 
dow, whispering  such  extravagant  terms  of 
endearments  as  "Angelita''  ^'Dwina'^  and 
" Primer osa,'^  until  it  is  a  wonder  I  didn't 
lose  my  head,  and  become,  Spanish-like,  a 
devotee  to  the  mirror. 

Then  one  day  there  came  a  noisy  rap  at  the 
door,  and  Senor  Don  Eduardo's  card  was 
brought  in.  When  I  peeped  through  the 
bars  I  saw  his  silver  mounted  victoria  in 
waiting,  with  his  monogram  emblazoned  on 
the  side.  The  girls  were  almost  speechless 
with  delight.  They  regarded  themselves  in 
the  happy  light  of  matchmakers,  and  flut- 
tered about  me  making  suggestions  and  try- 
ing to  rush  me  off  to  array  myself  in  my  gay- 
est attire,   Rosita  in  her  excitement  even 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       63 

pulling  out  her  favorite  of  my  dresses — a 
pink  flowered  silk,  and  trying  to  hurry  me 
into  it.  They  told  me  that  this  would  be  an 
announcement  of  my  acceptance  of  Senor 
Don  Eduardo,  when  people  saw  me  driving 
in  his  victoria  about  the  Alameda.  Then  I 
declined  to  go  further.  If  I  felt  any  hesita- 
tion in  going  alone,  their  mother  or  his 
mother  could  go  with  me,  they  persisted. 
His  mother  had  called,  and  I  found  her  a 
peculiar,  undemonstrative  woman,  though 
she  had  invited  me  to  her  home,  and  seemed 
desirous  of  making  a  good  impression.  But 
I  was  not  going  for  a  drive  in  Eduardo's 
carriage,  because  matters  had  now  assumed 
a  more  serious  aspect  than  I  liked. 

So  ended  my  affair  with  Seiior  Don 
Eduardo — ^at  least  the  pleasant  side  of  it, 
for  he  acted  very  ugly  indeed  after  this.  He 
would  stand  with  a  leer  on  his  dark  face  as  I 
passed,  and  even  dared  on  several  occasions 
to  hiss  at  me — such  a  hateful  hiss  that  it 
could  never  be  confounded  with  the  tender 


64       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

'" Angelita"  or  '^Divinar  of  a  few  weeks  be- 
fore. Seiior  Don  Eduardo's  pride  had  sus- 
tained a  blow.  He  told  Seiior  Carlos  that 
his  intention  had  been  to  marry  the  "Ameri- 
can Senorita"  in  four  months  if  she  had  not 
turned  out  a  ''coquetta.'^  When  Carlos  re- 
peated that  accusation  his  voice  had  an  an- 
gry ring,  and  he  seemed  much  surprised  that 
I  could  laugh,  I  didn't  know  then  that  to 
be  called  a  ''coquetta"  in  Mexico  is  much 
more  offensive  than  in  our  country.  A  very 
handsome  man  at  a  ball  one  evening  was 
promptly  refused  a  dance  by  Rosita.  When 
at  home  a  few  hours  later  I  asked  her  why 
this  was,  she  told  me  he  had  two  sisters  who 
were  coqnettas,  and  this  being  the  case, 
why  should  he  be  accepted  in  ''sociedadf 

One  night,  as  I  sat  in  the  window  dream- 
ing of  home,  something  was  dropped  into  my 
lap  through  the  bars,  and  looking  up  quick- 
ly I  saw  Seiior  Don  Eduardo  disappearing 
down  the  silent  street.  I  picked  up  his 
rcgalo.     It  was  a  long  gray  card,  and  in 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       65 

the  upper  left-hand  corner  was  a  tiny  Ameri- 
can flag,  with  streamers  of  the  blessed  na- 
tional red,  white  and  blue.  A  girlish  figure, 
tall  and  lithe,  occupied  the  space,  a  typical 
American  girl  dressed  in  a  walking  skirt, 
shirt  waist  and  heavy  shoes;  attire  that  is 
hateful  to  every  Mexican,  for  in  their  eyes 
a  woman  is  only  half  a  woman  when  she  lays 
aside  pretty  feminine  fripperies  and  fol- 
lies. This  girl  wore  no  hat,  had  sunny 
brown  hair  blowing  about  her  face,  and  a 
carefree  laugh  on  her  lips.  On  her  breast, 
in  bold  relief,  was  a  tiny  black  heart.  It 
seemed  a  little  incongruous  that  such  a 
pretty  girl  should  have  a  black  heart.  In 
one  hand  she  carried  a  dagger  with  a  crim- 
son one  on  its  point,  and  over  one  shoulder 
was  a  string  of  hearts ;  her  path  was  strewn 
with  them,  on  which  she  ruthlessly  trod, 
her  head  tossed  high,  watching  the  one 
on  her  dagger's  point — the  latest  vic- 
tim, I  supposed.  The  whole  was  rather 
startling;  her  trim  blue  skirt,  white  waist 


66       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

and  crimson  tie,  truly  patriotic,  and 
the  crimson  hearts  about  her  for  which 
her  laughing  eyes  showed  no  concern,  and 
the  black,  black  heart  on  her  breast.  It 
needed  no  word  ^'coquetta"  beneath  it  to 
show  its  import.  Perhaps  I  should  be 
ashamed,  but  I  really  prized  it  very  much; 
'twas  most  flattering,  and  certainly  dis- 
played artistic  talent — which  most  Mexicans 
have. 

An  American  boy  friend  told  me  a  joke  on 
himself.  He  became  much  enamored  of  the 
face  of  a  Seiiorita  as  he  passed  her  window 
daily  and  determined  to  revolutionize  their 
"slow"  methods.  So,  one  day,  he  boldly 
pounder"  with  the  brass  knocker  at  her 
front  door,  and  was  ushered  into  the  parlor 
and  her  presence.  She  blushed  prettily, 
and,  bowing  low,  left  the  room.  In  a  mo- 
ment she  returned  with  her  father  and 
mother.  For  a  few  minutes  conversation 
lagged,  then  the  mother  took  matters  into 
her  own  hands  and  asked  him  what   his 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       67 

intentions  were  regarding  her  daugliter. 
He  stammered  out  that  he  had  none  as 
yet,  and,  as  he  expressed  it,  "picked  him- 
self up  out  of  the  street  a  little  later,  won- 
dering how  he  got  there."  Never  afterward 
did  he  entertain  any  sentiment  for  a  Mexi- 
can Seiiorita,  nor  worry  over  their  lack  of 
progressiveness. 

A  standing  joke  with  Senor  Carlos,  who 
was  particularly  dark,  with  languid  black 
eyes,  was,  that  he  was  his  mother's  only 
blond  child,  and  therefore  her  favorite.  In 
their  eyes,  if  a  person's  skin  is  fair,  all  other 
defects  are  obliterated,  for  only  the  most 
purely  Castilian  type  escapes  the  dark  olive 
tint,  and  even  these  have  a  creamy  pallor 
to  their  complexion  that  is  distinctly 
foreign.  They  thought  me  dazzlingly  fair, 
though  I  had  always  lamented  my  brunette 
coloring.  I  remember  the  first  time  I  went 
to  a  ball,  when  Trinidad  had  fastened  the 
last  hook  of  my  dainty  white  gown,  she 
clasped  her  hands  with  delight,  and  ran 


68       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

away  to  summon  the  family.  They  all  went 
into  raptures  over  my  "snowy"  neck  and 
arms,  which  I  had  been  powdering  freely 
to  make  whiter.  Luz  declared  I  was 
a  spirit,  and,  slipping  up  behind  me,  timidly 
kissed  my  neck.  Fair  of  face,  fair  of 
lineage  with  them,  for  as  the  aristocrats  are 
many  shades  whiter  than  the  "pconSy'  a 
fair  complexion  is,  with  them,  an  unfailing 
evidence  of  blue  blood.  They  really  admire 
Americans,  though  they  feel  a  little  jealousy 
toward  us  for  the  way  we  are  entering  their 
country  and  taking  possession  of  their 
rights.  They  pretend  to  dislike  our  lan- 
guage, and  one  Spaniard  told  me  there 
was  but  one  word  of  the  Englisli  language 
that  he  liked,  this  he  used  often,  the  word 
"indeed." 

Though  one  may  be  willing  to  credit  them 
with  an  inimitably  pretty  language,  he  is 
not  willing  to  admit  that  there  is  but  one 
word  in  English  to  be  admired. 


An  American  Girl  in   Mexico.       69 


CHAPTER,  V. 

Carlos  told  me  of  his  love  for  Elisa,  and 
bis  eyes  glowed  with  tenderness  as  he  talked. 
He  had  once  "played  the  bear,"  as  Ameri- 
cans have  termed  their  parading  before  a 
window,  to  a  high  class  girl,  but  she  was 
too  cold  and  unresponsive,  he  told  me. 

"How  do  you  know  this  when  you  are 
never  allowed  to  talk  to  her?"  I  inquired. 

"Oh,  but  her  eyes  were  never  full  of  love 
like  Elisa's  are,"  he  explained. 

His  romantic  love  for  Elisa  was  a  source 
of  great  distress  to  his  family,  for  the  girl 
was  beneath  them  in  caste,  which  is  most 
defined  there.  They  called  her  a  "torfil- 
lera''  (tortilla  maker),  which,  of  course, 
she  was  not,  and  his  eyes  would  fill  with 


JO       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

tears  as  he  said  ^^Pohrecita"  He  felt  no 
resentment,  only  pity  for  his  poor  little 
girl  that  he  thought  he  loved  so  well.  His 
sisters  begged  me  to  talk  to  him  and  try  to 
persuade  him  to  go  back  to  Anita,  who 
loved  him  yet,  "for  we  will  never  receive 
this  Elisa — she  cannot  go  in  sociedad  even 
though  she  is  the  wife  of  Carlos,"  they  de- 
clared. 

I  asked  him  why  he  did  not  return  to 
Anita,  for  his  family's  sake,  and  her  own. 
He  shook  his  head. 

"I  cannot  be  the  lover  of  both  Elisa  and 
Anita,"  he  said,  "and  I  cannot  give  Elisa 
up.     If  they    did    not    live    on    the    same 

street "  and  he  finished  with  a  gloomy 

shake  of  his  head. 

"Oyas'  hermoso!^"'  (beautiful  eyes),  he 
would  murmur  softly  as  he  thought  of  Elisa, 
a  faraway  look  in  his  own.  "They  shall 
accept  her,"  he  declared.  "I  will  take  her 
on  my  arm,  pohrceita,  and  I  will  walk 
through  that  casino,  and  I  will  dance  every 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       71 

dance  with  her  when  she  is  my  little  wife, 
and  you  think  they  will  dare  not  to  receive 
the  wife  of  Carlos?" 

One  morning  I  was  in  the  family  pew  at 
the  Cathedral  listening  to  the  "choir  invisi- 
ble," when  Seiior  Carlos  slipped  in  beside 
me.  I  looked  up  in  surprise,  for  he  was 
not  religiously  inclined.  Often  a  candle 
burned  all  day  at  home  before  one  of  the 
statues  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  for  his  sake; 
his  mother  worried  no  little  over  her 
son's  indifference  to  the  religion  of  his  fore- 
fathers; so  my  astonishment  was  natural. 
Still  more  surprised  was  I  when  he  began 
to  tell  me  how  much  he  loved  me.  "Ttt- 
tienes  mticha  mas  intelUgencia  y  mas  dig- 
nidad  que  las  luuchachas  Mexicanas,  to- 
das  de  las  fnuchacJias  Americanas  tienen." 
("Thou  hast  much  more  intellect  and  more 
dignity  than  Mexican  girls — all  American 
girls  have.") 

"Then,"  I  said,  "do  you  tell  me  this,  Senor 
Carlos,  after  I  have  heard  you  talk  of  Elisa 


72      An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

so  often?  And  in  the  cathedral !  I  am  dis- 
appointed in  you,  miserably  disappointed." 

I  laid  my  hand  on  his  arm,  and,  looking 
straight  at  him,  said :  "Let's  forget  you  have 
ever  said  this — that  you  have  ever  for  a 
moment  been  untrue  to  Elisa,  whose  heart 
you  have  won.  Continue  to  be  my  brother, 
Carlos,  and  I  shall  be  happy — poor  little 
Elisa!"  Just  a  moment  of  surprise  then 
Seiior  Carlos  shook  hands  with  me  warmly 
and  said  in  his  pretty  tongue: 

"I  thank  you,  Seiiorita.  I  will  be  true  to 
my  little  girl.  I  thought  I  loved  you,  but  I 
am  your  brother,  am  I  not  ?  And  you — you 
shall  be  my  bridesmaid  when  I  marry  Elisa 
— now  that  you  know  that  I  love  her  you 
will  not  try  to  send  me  back  to  Anita,  will 
you?''  And  with  one  of  his  radiant  smiles 
he  was  gone.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  they 
are  an  anomaly  as  a  race?  Some  harsh 
critic  described  the  country  as  "A  land 
whose  flowers  have  no  perfume — men  no 
honor  and  women  no  virtue."     I  think  his 


MV    ].NN'(>(  KM     MAID — IKIMDAD. 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       73 

epitome  entirely  too  severe,  though,  'Tis 
a  country  with  many  superior  charms  that 
cannot  but  be  felt  by  the  mere  tourist. 

From  that  time  on  Seiior  Carlos  never  for 
a  moment  fancied  any  display  of  sentiment 
due  me,  and  never  forgot  the  brotherly  atti- 
tude we  had  agreed  upon. 

The  ^^ peons'"  have  a  happier,  freer  time 
than  the  aristocrats.  They  are  decidedly 
bohemian.  It  was  one  of  my  favorite  pas- 
times to  sit  on  the  sunshiny  plaza,  near  a 
hanca,  on  which  sat  a  pair  of  plebeian  lov- 
ers, and  hear  their  pretty  love-making.  I 
felt  no  more  compunction  of  conscience  for 
this  than  for  listening  near  a  confessional. 
They  always  reminded  me  of  a  pair  of  mod- 
est, happy  doves;  their  love  is  as  sweet  as 
their  music.  ^'Tu  no  me  ainas"  ( Thou  dost 
not  love  me)  I  would  hear  the  probable  Con- 
chita  murmur,  and  then  his  tender  assur- 
ance to  the  contrary.  There  they  would  sit 
in  happy  oblivion  of  all  about  them,  with  no 
thought  but  of  the  perfect  present,  no  anx- 


74       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

let  J  over  the  proximity  of  tlie  ^^Americmw/' 
The  higher  class  laugh  merrily  about  the 
plebeians  and  their  love  affairs,  never  real- 
izing that  they  themselves  are  missing  the 
best  of  life,  that  "The  light  of  the  whole 
world  dies  w^hen  love  is  done,"  and  love  is 
usually  done  there  before  it  has  hardly  be- 
gun. 

My  first  ball  I  enjoyed  supremely.  We  all 
went,  the  Seuora  and  her  three  daughters, 
for  she  insisted  that  I,  too,  was  her  daug'h- 
ter.  Carlos  never  went.  He  had  quit  at- 
tending balls  since  Elisa  had  come  into  his 
life,  because  he  knew  that  she  would  not  be 
welcomed  at  the  Casino,  and  he  did  not 
care  to  go  where  he  could  not  look  into 
those  beloved  dark  eyes.  On  this  occasion 
I  was  the  only  American  in  the  house.  At 
the  midnight  supper  a  gay  bachelor  arose, 
and,  bowing  low,  handed  me  a  bouquet  of  La 
France  roses,  saying  in  perfect  English  "Se- 
Sorita,  I  love  you.  Seiiorita,  you  make  me 
tired."    Undignified  as  it  was  to  do  so,  I 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       75 

shrieked  with  laughter,  and  tried  to  explain 
his  mistake  to  him.  The  i)oor  fellow  had 
thought  he  was  paj'ing  me  a  great  compli- 
ment in  chance  English  he  had  picked  up. 
Several  toasts  were  drunk  to  the  ''Ameri- 
cano/' until  I  indeed  felt  that  "It  is  better  to 
be  an  American  than  to  be  a  King."  This 
though  had  been  the  uppermost  feeling  with 
me  since  I  came  from  my  Texan  home  into 
this  strange  land. 

By  the  beginning  of  Lent  I  began  to  con- 
sider myself  fairly  versatile  in  Spanish. 
Residence  in  a.  family  that  speaks  nothing 
but  that  language  is  the  best  way  to  learn  it. 

The  Lenten  season  was  one  of  absorbing 
interest.  The  streets  were  thronged  daily 
with  people  going  to  and  from  church,  and  I 
loved  to  slip  into  the  great  cool  Cathedral 
and  take  my  seat  close  to  a  confessional 
where  I  would  listen  to  a  recital  of  their 
multifarious  transgressions.  One  day  Con- 
cepcion  came  out  of  her  room  dressed  all  in 
black — even   her   face  draped,   carrying  a 


76       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

rosary,  looking  very  sweet  and  demure,  and 
made  the  announcement  that  she  was  going 
to  confess  her  sins. 

"What  sins?"  I  asked,  wondering  what 
that  sweet  dark-eyed  girl  had  to  confess. 

"Oh,  my  many  sins ;  criticising  my  friends 
and  loving  pretty  clothes  too  well,  and  some- 
times— sometimes  speaking  crossly  to  my 
Mamacita/'  and  kissing  Mamacita's  hand 
she  was  gone.  This  is  a  pet  nume  with 
them  for  mamma. 

There  is  one  day  of  Lent  that  every  per- 
son must  wear  black.  It  looks  strange  to 
see  the  hundreds  of  hurrying  black  figures 
in  the  streets.  I  saw  a  mother  with  a  little 
child,  a  baby  girl  not  more  than  two  years 
old,  kneeling  before  the  Virgin  Mary  in  the 
Cathedral,  its  little  hands  clasped,  learn- 
ing to  lisp  a  prayer.  I  could  no  longer  feel 
surprised  that  the  entire  nation  is  Catholic, 
when  it  is  instilled  into  them  from  the 
cradle  to  the  grave.  The  week  before  East- 
er is  more  full  of  interest  than  any  other 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       "]*] 

time.  On  the  day  before  Easter  Judas  Is- 
eariot  is  burned  in  ^^^^  on  every  street 
corner  and  in  every  home  that  is  able  to  pro- 
vide one.  He  is  made  of  papier  mache 
filled  with  explosives,  and  can  be  bought  any 
size  at  the  market  for  less  than  thirty  pieces 
of  silver.  A  particularly  spiritual-minded 
household  will  have  a  life-sized  Judas.  In 
the  streets  the  '^ peons"  assemble  with  a  huge 
one  that  their  carefully  hoarded  pennies 
have  purchased,  and  frequently  they  will 
also  have  a  Mrs.  Judas,  dressed  gaily  in  pink 
tissue  paper.  These  they  suspend  high  in  the 
air,  touch  them  off  and  shriek  with  deri- 
sion at  their  contortions.  The  reports  all 
day  are  deafening,  and  it  seems  to  be  a  day 
of  supreme  pleasure  among  all  classes.  The 
family  where  I  boarded  were  very  quiet  with 
their  Judas  bonfire,  and  I  saw  nothing  of 
him,  unless  he  was  inside  a  long,  peculiar 
shaped  parcel  that  I  saw  Seuor  Carlos  bring 
in  one  day. 

Mrs.  Judas  looks  so  pretty  and  innocent 


yS       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

in  her  fluffy  attire  that  one  dares  to  hope 
she  was  not  in  the  conspiracy  at  all.  The 
day  before  Easter,  to  add  to  the  deafening 
uproar  and  jubilee,  the  matraca  is  started. 
It  is  a  big  wooden  machine  in  the  tower  of 
the  Cathedral  with  a  wheel  inside  which 
grinds  against  the  walls,  and  of  all  the 
whirring,  grating,  unearthly  sounds  one 
ever  heard,  this  is  the  worst.  All  day  long  it 
grinds  till  you  are  almost  deafened  by  the 
sound.  This  day  no  bells  are  rung,  which 
seems  strange  after  the  hundreds  that  have 
been  making  the  air  musical  for  weeks. 

A  whole  day  I  spent,  going  from  Cathe- 
dral to  Cathedral,  even  to  a  tiny  church  on 
the  far  outskirts  of  the  city.  The  sights 
were  startling.  Though  similar  at  all  the 
churches,  at  the  grand  Cathedral  the  scene 
was  most  harrowing.  In  the  centre  aisle 
was  a  coffin  in  which  lay  a  waxen  figure  of 
Christ,  the  eye  sockets  empty  and  bloody, 
the  nail  holes  gaping  in  bleeding  hands,  and 
an  expression  of  the  most  exquisite  suffer- 


CATHKDRAI.  DK  SAN  FERNANDO. 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       79 

ing  on  his  face.  Beside  the  bier  stood  the 
Virgin  Mary,  clothed  in  black,  a  pale  waxen 
figure,  with  tears  on  the  anguished  face;  a 
person  is  filled  with  wonder  as  to  how  they 
can  make  so  painfully  realistic  the  tears, 
the  suffering  faces,  and  the  bleeding  body  of 
Christ  There  is  literally  weeping  and 
wailing  and  gnashing  of  teeth  among  the 
distressed  populace  that  looks  on  this  scene 
with  morbid  horror.  So  natural  did  it  look 
that  I  shuddered  and  turned  away  involun- 
tarily, and  thought  what  it  must  be  to  them, 
steeped  in  ignorance  and  superstition,  and 
believing,  heart  and  soul,  in  the  good  of 
such  a  ceremony.  They  wring  their  hands 
and  cry  aloud,  a  very  Bedlam  of  sorrowing 
voices  in  every  church.  Even  the  little  chil- 
dren were  wailing  with  their  parents. 

Superstition  reigns  supreme  in  Mexico — 
particularly  among  ^^los  pohres"  When 
building  a  fire  they  make  the  sign  of  a  cross 
in  front  of  the  oven.  In  killing  a  chicken 
they  pull  its  head  off  and  make  the  sign  of 


8o       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

the  cross  on  the  ground  with  its  neck,  de- 
claring that  the  chicken  cannot  jump  from 
that  spot  A  child  slow  to  talk  is  fed  on 
boiled  swallows.  Colored  glass  beads 
ground  fine  are  administered  for  paralysis. 
Candles  are  always  burned  in  times  of  ill- 
ness or  misfortune.  The  penchant  for  cere- 
monious display  is  national.  Gay  flowers, 
Chinese  lanterns,  flags  and  brightly  attired 
throngs,  are  in  evidence  on  every  great  day. 
Near  every  town  of  any  size  there  is  a 
sacred  mountain  on  the  top  of  which  is  a 
black  cross.  One  who  has  been  unusually 
wicked,  and  possesses  a  sufficiently  sensi- 
tive conscience  to  direct  it,  climbs  on  bared 
knees  to  the  top  of  that  mountain,  begs  for- 
giveness at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  then  de- 
scends over  the  sharp  stones  to  the  base  of 
the  mountain.  The  penitent  is  usually  so 
exhausted  after  the  several  days  of  phy- 
sical and  mental  exertion  and  prolonged 
fasting  that  ministering  friends  have  to 
assist     him     or     her     home.       It     is     a 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       8i 

pitiful,  suffering  religion,  so  full  of  hu- 
manism. They  often  travel  for  miles  to  do 
this  penance,  and  though  they  lie  in  bed  for 
days  afterward  with  lacerated  knees,  their 
souls  seem  so  spotless  they  feel  repaid.  One 
day  a  poor  mother  with  a  perfect  brood  of 
children  came  to  beg  from  Seiiora;  all  the 
children  were  dressed  in  tatters  except  one 
little  timid  girl  about  three  years  old,  who 
wore  a  simple,  clean  white  dress.  I  asked  the 
cause  of  so  great  a  difference  in  their  ap- 
pearance, and  was  told  that  a  priest  had  des- 
ignated her  to  be  the  sanctified  member  of 
her  household;  she  must  never  be  allowed 
to  wear  anything  but  white. 

This  chosen  child  always  receives  the  best 
of  everything,  and  is  not  allowed  to  play 
like  the  other  children,  but  set  aside  like 
something  holy.  I  think  the  little  thing 
must  feel  rather  unhappy,  and  believe  with 
Mark  Twain:  "Be  good  and  you  will  be 
lonesome." 

The  children  generally  lead  such  a  happy 


82       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

romping  life,  tumbling  over  the  sidewalks 
or  riding  a  lialf  dozen  at  a  time  on  one 
stubborn  little  burro. 

The  '^peon"  family  spends  most  of  the 
time  in  the  streets,  peddling  any  little 
article  they  may  have,  or  lounging  lazily 
about  the  plazas,  while  the  children  enjoy 
life.  They  clamber  on  to  the  passing  street- 
car, (for  which  the  driver  gives  them  a  sharp 
cut  with  his  TS'Tiip,)  steal  from  the  near-by 
fruit-seller,  and  chase  every  wheel  they  see. 

A  bicycle  is  a  source  of  unending  curios- 
ity to  these  people.  I  heard  of  a  party  of 
Americans  who  were  invited  to  a  ball  on  a 
hacienda  or  ranch.  They  sailed  out  inde- 
pendently on  their  wheels,  and  a  kindly  dis- 
posed serving  woman  took  the  name  of  each 
one  on  a  separate  card  as  they  entered — for 
what  reason  they  did  not  question.  When 
they  started  home,  each  found  a  card  neatly 
pinned  on  the  back  tire,  the  tire  as  flat  as  it 
could  well  be.  I  think  they  decided  to  spend 
the  night  on  the  ranch. 


PEDRO  W nil    1  HE  NINA  OF  l.UZ. 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       83 


CHAPTER  VI. 

There  was  a  dear  little  bright-eyed  Mexi- 
can baby  living  opposite  us,  whose  nurse 
brought  it  out  on  the  sidewalk  every  after- 
noon dressed  in  glaring  pink.  It  would 
laugh  and  coo  when  it  spied  me,  and,  greatly 
flattered,  I  decided  to  go  over  and  make 
friends  with  little  Miss  Teresita.  She  im- 
mediately held  out  her  hands  for  me  to  take 
her  in  my  arms,  which  I  did.  To  my  dis- 
may I  perceived  that  her  ears  were  not  as 
shell-like  as  they  might  be,  and  there  was  an 
unmistakable  necklace  of  dirt  about  her 
little  throat,  so  I  hastily  handed  her  back 
to  the  nurse  with  a  forced  smile,  and  went 
home.  The  Senora  asked  me  why  I  stayed 
no  longer. 


84       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

"Because  the  baby  was  not  clean,"  I 
answered  in  my  clearest  Spanish. 

"Oh,  you  are  mistaken,"  the  Seiiora  as- 
sured me.  "I  know  her  mother  and  she  is 
very  careful  with  her  baby.  She  bathes  it 
every  week." 

The  "peon"  class  are  positively  feline  in 
their  dread  of  water.  It  is  a  religious  duty 
to  bathe  on  the  twenty-fourth  day  of  June, 
and  it  is  a  well  authenticated  fact  that  this 
is  the  only  bath  most  of  the  poorer  class 
take  during  the  year. 

Firmly  do  the  pohres  believe  that  this 
bath  on  el  dia  de  San  Juan  Bautista  brings 
beauty  to  the  maiden,  vigor  to  the  matron, 
and  freshness  to  the  old  maid. 

One  who  has  been  among  them  does  not 
find  this  hard  to  believe.  Josef,  our  yard 
man,  said  to  me  that  "Americans  are  like 
fish;  they  love  water."  I  asked  him  if  he 
were  going  down  for  a  bath  on  the  twenty- 
fourth.  "Oh,  yes,  I  always  do,"  he  assured 
me.     We  went  to  watch  them,  and  while  a 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       85 

trifle  embarrassing,  it  was  a  very  amusing 
spectacle.  When  the  men  filed  into  the  river, 
their  wives,  or  some  attentive  female,  would 
proceed  to  wash  their  clothes  and  lay  them 
out  to  dry.  The  bath  was  necessarily  a  long 
soaking  one,  waiting  for  the  clothes.  When 
all  the  men  had  arrayed  themselves  in  their 
fresh  linen  and  departed,  the  women  put  the 
children  in  and  then  began  to  disrobe 

But  we  left  just  then ! 

Next  day  I  asked  Josef  about  his  bath. 

"I  was  sick,  Seiiorita,"  he  said  mourn- 
fully.    "But  I  will  bathe  next  June." 

It  never  seemed  to  occur  to  Josef  that  a 
bath  on  any  other  day  would  be  as  clean. 

They  peddle  the  oddest  things  in  the 
street.  A  glass  of  their  native  burning 
pulque,  so  loved  by  all,  aqua  fresca 
(fresh  water),  or  dingy  looking  lemonade, 
can  be  purchased  on  any  corner,  or  even 
boiled  roasting  ears  and  baked  sweet  pota- 
toes. During  Lent  the  business  is  thriving, 
for  the  streets  are  full  of  people  who  make  a 


86       An  American  Giri  in  Mexico. 

dinner  of  a  boiled  roasting  ear  and  feel 
thankful  to  get  it.  Fruit  of  all  kinds  is 
plentiful  in  every  part  of  Mexico  at  all 
times.  Mangoes,  zipotes,  aguacates,  or- 
anges, bananas  and  others,  with  such  long 
names  that  I  never  learned  to  pronounce 
them.  Such  delicious  figs  and  grapes!  One 
would  almost  live  there  for  them  alone.  It 
is  interesting  to  watch  a  "peon's''  way  of 
buying.  He  will  go  up  to  a  fruit 
stand,  drop  a  centavo  and,  without  a  word, 
take  a  mango  or  orange,  though  perhaps 
the  vender  had  expected  to  receive  more  for 
the  article.     The  "peon"  sets  his  own  price. 

Little  boys  can  be  seen  in  the  streets  with 
a  string  of  steaks  to  deliver,  which  they  do 
not  hesitate  to  use  as  a  whip  on  the  first 
mongrel  dog  they  meet,  delighted  at  his 
yelp  of  surprise.  Later  you  get  one  of  these 
same  steaks  for  supper. 

The  way  the  poor  dress,  or  rather, 
don't  dress,  is  appalling.  SucTi  tatters  as 
the  veriest  ragamuffin  in  the  States  would 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       87 

scorn,  are  to  them  princely  attire;  in  fact, 
some  of  them  are  so  indifferent  to  their 
needs  from  a  standpoint  of  modesty — so 
prDne  to  retnrn  to  the  days  of  fig  leaves — 
that  it  is  positively  embarrassing. 

These  people  will  throng  the  churches  at 
Lent,  and  weep  loudest  of  all,  feeling  no 
hesitation  in  calling  attention  to  them- 
selves. Modesty  in  Mexico  is  a  quality 
conspicuous  for  its  absence.  My  cheeks 
often  burned  while  listening  to  their  con- 
versation, and  the  Seiiora  would  shake  her 
head,  saying,  even  to  Seiior  Carlos,  "We 
must  not  forgeti  the  Senorita;  she  has  so 
much  false  modesty,  but  she  can't  help  it — 
all  Americans  have." 

On  Easter  eve  Seiiora  invited  me  to  go 
with  them  to  church,  and  I,  of  course,  ac- 
cepted. They  made  me  dress  in  black,  and 
put  a  lace  mantilla  on  me  to  which  I  ob- 
jected, because  it  seemed  sacrilegious,  and, 
besides,  made  me  look  like  a  widow ;  but  they 
made  me  keep  it  on,  telling  me  that  I  must 


88       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

not  wear  a  hat  at  that  service.  First  we 
went  to  a  little  chapel  near  their  home. 
Everything  was  confusion  there.  In  the 
aisle  the  body  of  Christ  lay  in  state  as  else- 
where, and  all  the  people  were  weeping. 
Some  little  girls  in  white  passed  a  lighted 
candle  to  each  of  us,  and  Concepcion  giggled 
under  her  mantilla,  trying  to  pull  me  dowTi 
on  my  knees.  Even  while  the  beads  of  her 
rosary  slipped  through  her  fingers  and  her 
lips  moved  in  prayer,  she  was  smiling 
brightly  up  at  me. 

Soon  she  took  my  hand  and  led  me  out, 
first  stopping  at  the  font  to  cross  herself 
and  me  with  holy  water.  Then  we  pro- 
ceeded to  the  Cathedral,  and  went  through 
a  like  ceremony.  The  figures  of  Christ  and 
the  Virgin  Mary  looked  more  ghastly  than 
ever  in  the  bright  light  there,  and  the  grief 
was  accordingly  more  noisy.  On  the  out- 
side the  Cathedral  was  a  vision  of  glory.  All 
about  the  edges  of  the  roof  were  burning 
candles  about  three  inches  apart.     In  the 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       89 

belfry  the  entire  surface  was  studded  with 
them,  until  it  looked  like  myriads  of  spark- 
ling diamonds.  From  all  the  hotels  people 
assembled  to  gaze  upon  this  beautiful  pic- 
ture. The  next  morning  I  was  awakened  by 
glad  bells  on  every  side — all  the  bells  in  the 
Cathedral  tower  were  ringing  at  once,  and 
no  one  seemed  to  know  how  many  there 
were,  all  a  different  size,  so  that  the  sound 
was  a  commingling  of  pretty  tones.  Every 
bell  in  the  city  was  ringing  nearly  all  day, 
with  only  brief  pauses. 

The  Virgin  Mary  now  wore  robes  of  maz- 
zarine  blue.  The  mystic  tears  were  gone,  for 
Christ  was  risen.  He  looked  down  lovingly 
on  his  benighted  followers  with  eyes  that 
were  yesterday  so  harrowingly  absent.  The 
scene  was  a  glad  one  and  every  face  beamed 
with  happiness.  The  choir  boys  sang  joy- 
ously as  they  scattered  sweet  incense,  and 
the  priests  in  royal  purple  velvet  robes 
looked  unusually  well-fed.     Nuns  are  not 


90       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

allowed  in  Mexico,  but  their  priests  are  the 
objects  of  great  reverence. 

Every  household  is  appointed  a  pauper  to 
feed.  A  tottering  old  woman  came  to  our 
house  every  day  for  her  dinner;  this  was 
the  only  meal  she  had.  When  the  girls 
would  hear  her  faltering  step  in  the  hall 
they  would  call  out  a  welcome  to  the  ^^vie- 
jita/'  which  means  "little  old  one."  'Twas 
so  pathetic  to  see  her  go  into  the  kitchen 
and  crouch  down  on  the  dirt  floor  to  await 
her  food.  Some  days  she  would  be  too  ill 
to  come,  and  would  go  hungry. 

The  Spanish  all  have  patron  saints,  for 
whom  they  are  named,  and  this  saint's  day 
is  more  observed  than  a  person's  birthday. 
It  was  a  source  of  wonder  and  pity  to  the 
Seuora  that  I  had  no  patron  saint.  What 
could  my  parents  have  been  thinking  about, 
she  said,  to  give  me  the  name  of  no  saint. 
She  even  urged  me  to  add  the  name  of  a 
saint  to  mine  and  celebrate  the  day,  declar- 
ing she  would  be  afraid  to  die  with  no  saint 


TllK   l;l.lM)   1  KAI)    rHK   HI  IM). 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       91 

to  protect  her.  Their  reverence  for  religion 
is  beautiful.  A  car  driver  always  bares  his 
head  upon  passing  a  church  if  it  be  a  hun- 
dred times  a  day,  and  poor  old  cripples 
crawling  past  the  Cathedral  pause  to  cross 
themselves. 

Some  days  I  would  just  wander  in  the 
streets  trying  to  see  what  I  could  see.  I  re^ 
member  one  afternoon  particularly.  I 
was  homesick — desperately  homesick,  and 
thought  to  shake  it  off  by  a  ramble  among 
these  ever  interesting  people,  where  there  is 
something  new  to  see  every  day.  This  time 
I  had  about  mastered  my  emotions,  and  was 
watching  a  man  lead  a  pig  along  the  side- 
walk by  a  string — a.  rebellious  pig,  that 
made  a  dash  for  every  open  door-way,  and 
almost  upset  a  millinery  establishment  in 
less  than  two  minutes,  arousing  the  risi- 
bilities of  every  one  near  except  the  owner  of 
the  establishment  and  the  ovvner  of  the  pig. 

I  was  laughing,  too,  when  I  heard  the 
most  melancholy  strains  of  music.  Glancing 


02       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

about  me  I  spied  a  grimy  little  boy  perched 
on  the  pavement  playing  a  harp — utterly 
oblivious  to  all  about  him,  plaA'ing  "After 
the  Ball,"  more  full  of  pathos  than  Charles 
Harris,  the  composer,  with  all  his  morbid 
conception  of  sorrow,  could  have  conceived. 
I  never  heard  anything  sweeter  than  that 
little  piece  drawn  from  a  crude  harp  that 
cost  only  a  few  pennies.  I  wondered  if  the 
youthful  musician  guessed  that  he  was  mak- 
ing a  lonely  American  girl's  eyes  swim  with 
tears  till  she  couldn't  see  her  way.  I  left 
him,  still  playing  his  little  song,  and  re- 
traced my  steps  with  an  emptier  void  in  my 
heart  and  a  cry  from  my  heartsick  soul  for 
home. 

Joaquin  Miller  said  of  Mexico:  "It  is 
Italy  and  France  and  the  best  part  of  Spain 
tied  up  together  in  one  bunch  of  rapturous 
fragrance."  The  climate  is  always  perfect 
— ^to  an  American  healthfully,  delightfully 
soothing,  yet  a  Mexican,  swathed  from  eyes 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       93 

to  toes  in  a  blanket  will  tell  you  this  is  ''por 
el  aire'''   (on  account  of  the  air). 

"Fellow  feeling  makes  us  wondrous  kind." 
Aside  from  the  pleasure  of  speaking  the 
musical  language  I  now  conscientiously  chat 
with  every  passing  tamale  man,  for  I  know 
how  dear  the  sound  of  his  own  tongue, 
when  far  from  his  tierra.  Never  shall 
I  forget  one  day  soon  after  my  arrival,  w-hen 
I  was  lying  in  my  room  thinking  how 
strange  the  jargon,  half  Indian,  half  Span- 
ish, of  the  old  cook  sounded  when  I  heard 
a  burly  American  voice  say  "See  here,  these 
pipes  are  'busted'  and  no  one  on  the  place 
can  understand  me."  I  appeared  in  a  mo- 
ment to  enjoy  the  privilege  of  directing  him, 
and  of  hearing  him  speak  our  substantial 
language.  I  don't  believe  I  should  have 
cared  much  if  he  had  sworn — in  English ! 
Send  the  coldest  hearted  American,  seeming- 
ly devoid  of  love  of  country,  beyond  the 
line  where  the  last  English  is  heard,  and,  if 
"Home,  Sweet  Home"  doesn't  bring  tears  to 


94       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

his  eyes,  he  is  hopeless.  Nothing  so  intensi- 
fies the  love  of  our  native  land  as  abandon- 
ment of  it.  A  peep  into  the  charming  home 
of  our  American  Consul-General  will  cor- 
roborate this.  Old  Glory  waves  from  every 
possible  place,  the  walls  are  draped  with  it 
because  they  love  it  so.  A  treat  lies  in  store 
for  every  American  visitor  that  is  so  for- 
tunate as  to  meet  the  American  Consul- 
General  and  his  lovely  young  wife. 

The  music  of  Mexico  is  a.  source  of  con- 
stant pleasure,  but  the  melody  that  made 
me  ready  to  shout  for  joy  was,  "A  Hot 
Time  in  the  Old  Town  To-night,"  played  by 
an  American  football  team  passing  through. 
The  roar  of  appreciation  from  the  assembled 
Americans  was  deafening.  Let  those  laugh 
who  will.  I  would  that  all  who  think  thus ; 
would  bid  good-bye  to  every  familiar  face, 
manner  and  word,  and  go  away  to  live 
among  foreigners.  Surely  they  will  go  to 
scoff  and  remain  to  weep. 

One  day  I  saw  an  old  "peon''  go  up  and 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       95 

beg  for  one  of  the  ever  popular  ta  males,  from 
a  womian  sitting  on  the  pavement.  She  re- 
fused the  request.  Nothing  daunted,  he 
coaxed  and  teased  the  old  hag,  but  she  re- 
mained firm  until  he  playfully  tilted  up  her 
chin  and  kissed  her.  Then  she  gratefully 
handed  him  a  tamale;  so  fond  are  they  of 
this  delicacy  that  I  do  not  believe  he  thought 
his  price  too  high. 

It  always  sounded  so  funny  to  hear 
those  tiny  brown  children  prattling  Span- 
ish, for  they  learn  to  talk  sooner  than 
American  babies,  their  language  is  so  easy 
to  learn.  But  funnier  still  is  it  to  hear  the 
chatter  of  the  parrots  in  the  markets,  that 
speak  with  all  the  rolling  pronunciation  of 
their  instructors,  who,  for  four  dollars  in 
their  money,  will  gladly  part  with  one. 
They  sell  easily,  but  do  not  bring  as  good 
a  price  as  the  little  Chihuahua  dog,  which 
is  so  small  that  a  man  can  stick  one  in  his 
pocket,  and  avoid  the  duty  at  the  border, 


96       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

whereas  a  parrot  would  scream  vociferously 
at  such  an  indignity. 

What  trouble  people  do  get  into  for 
smuggling!  A  bridal  pair  I  knew,  who 
tried  to  hide  some  of  the  native  drawn  work 
in  their  trunks,  were  arrested,  and  made  to 
pay  five  hundred  dollars  American  money 
before  they  were  allowed  to  leave  Laredo. 
The  saddest  part  of  the  situation  was  that 
they  had  to  telegraph  to  the  bride's  father 
for  the  money.  The  bridegroom  exacted  a 
promise  from  his  wife  that  as  long  as  she 
lived  she  would  never  allow  a  piece  of  drawn 
work  to  be  seen  in  their  home.  People  are 
caught  daily  trying  to  smuggle.  One  clever 
woman  was  discovered  with  her  pompadour 
filled  with  opals ;  still  another  tried  to  wear 
a  bustle  made  of  a  handsome  drawn-work 
table  cloth.  The  oflieials  were  too  well  up 
on  fashion,  though,  for  her.  This  woman — 
looking  like  a  picture  from  Godey's  Maga- 
zine with  her  huge  bustle — was  directed  to 
interview  the  inspectress;  consequently  the 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       97 

handsome  cloth  never  decked  her  table,  and 
when  she  was  allowed  to  proceed  on  her 
journey  it  was  with  a  much  lightened  purse. 
People  would  better  decide  not  to  be  too 
clever  around  the  ever  alert  officials. 

That  examination  at  the  border  is  by  no 
means  a  myth.  The  train  stops,  and  first  a 
quiet  woman  with  a  mantilla  over  her  head 
comes  through  the  coach  and  makes  known 
that  she  is  the  inspectress.  Every  satchel 
must  be  opened  and  its  contents  displayed. 
It  depends  entirely  on  her  humor  whether 
every  article  must  come  out.  If  suspicious, 
she  demands  a  glimpse  of  even  your  tooth- 
brush, and  may  peep  into  your  powder  box. 

Then  everyone  gets  off  the  train  and  goes 
into  the  baggage  room,  where  inspectors  and 
inspectresses  wait  to  swoop  down  on  the 
trunks  like  Assyrian  wolves  on  the  fold. 
You  are  allowed  to  open  your  own  trunk 
and  watch  the  examination,  and  if  you  can 
say  a  few  pleasant  words  in  Spanish,  so 
much  the  better.    Sometimes  the  scrutiny  is 


98       An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

superficial,  sometimes  every  garment  will  be 
held  up  to  the  eyes  of  the  public,  the  hose 
unrolled  and  the  inspectress'  hands  run  into 
them  even.  It  is  amusing  to  watch  the  dif- 
ferent expressions  of  the  inspected.  All 
have  been  advised  to  look  indifferent,  and 
the  efforts  are  almost  ludicrous.  A  man 
with  several  boxes  of  cigars  down  deep  in 
his  trunk  will  look  away  whistling,  but  an 
occasional  glance  out  of  the  corner  of  his 
eye  says  plainly  that  he  is  not  at  ease.  Oth- 
ers will  be  entirely  too  ingratiating,  and 
still  others  tremble  with  fear — but  I  found 
that  innocence  is  the  very  best  safeguard. 
To  go  to  ^Ha  campana^'  (the  country) 
is  a  source  of  unmixed  joy  to  a  Mexican. 
Often  we  used  to  order  up  a  burro  each  and, 
strapping  on  a  blanket  and  the  few  essen- 
tials for  camping  out,  would  be  off  for  ^^la 
campana."  Far  out  among  the  silent 
mountains  we  would  pass  the  summer  home 
of  the  governor,  a  beautiful  retreat  that  he 
loved    more    than    his    mansion    in    town. 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.       99 

Once,  when  he  was  there,  we  stopped  for 
several  days — delightful  days,  buried  from 
view  in  that  perfect  spot.  Wide,  cool,  stone 
galleries,  luxuriant  growth  of  all  kinds,  and 
the  Southern  hospitality  of  the  governor, 
combined  to  make  the  days  most  pleasant, 
but  even  this  could  not  long  hold  us.  We 
must  go  away  further  into  oblivion  and 
camp  in  some  sunshiny  spot  on  the  bank  of  a 
babbling  little  brooklet  where  all  day  birds 
warbled  sweetly  in  the  palm  trees,  lizards 
basked  in  the  sunshine,  and  we  lay  in  bliss- 
ful idleness,  enjoying  the  wonders  of  nature 
here,  for  Mexicans  never  tire  of  the  match- 
less beauties  of  their  land. 

Occasionally  we  would  hear  the  tread  of 
a  sandaled  foot  and  spy  a  pulque  man 
with  his  pigskin  pouch  making  his  way  to 
some  pulque  plant  to  extract  the  beloved 
beverage.  Far  away  and  lonely  he  seemed, 
but  as  undisturbed  as  the  birds  and  lizards 
by  our  intrusion.     There  was  nothing  in  his 


loo     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

life  but  to  extract  pulque  to  sell  to  his  fel- 
lowmen  for  the  downfall  of  their  morals. 

Away  in  those  sylvan  shades  of  palms  and 
waving  bananas  is  found  a  deadly  lit- 
tle plant.  It  is  an  opiate,  joy  giving  in  its 
effect  for  a  time,  but  whose  insidious  poison 
gradually  permeates  the  system,  until  the 
poor  creature,  smoking  the  little  herb,  (for 
'tis  thus  its  poison  is  imbibed,)  one  day 
helplessly  bats  his  or  her  eyes,  fights  for 
light,  then  learns  that  no  ray  of  light  is  ever 
again  to  come  to  the  poor  mortal.  Nor  is  this 
all.  Soon  all  his  faculties  are  gone,  and  they 
tell  you  he  is  "locoed"  (crazed),  and  until 
death  releases  the  poor  creature  he  sits 
(there  hour  by  hour,  screaming  in  weird 
laughter  one  frightful  peal  after  another, 
mirthless  as  blood-curdling.  It  seems  in- 
congruous that  such  gruesome  possibilities 
could  be  contained  in  this  pretty  little  fra- 
grant plant.  Not  only  troubled  human 
beings  seek  its  solace;  often  a  poor  dumb 
animal,  strangely  lacking  in  the  instinct  of 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.     loi 

self-preservation,  will  become  inoculated 
with  the  poison,  dying  the  same  frightful 
death.     'Tis  the  bitter  amid  the  sweet. 

Never  before  had  I  cared  to  live  in  the 
country,  but  there  the  fascination,  the  at- 
tractiveness of  a  home  scene,  a  lowly  home 
scene,  impressed  me  as  some  are  impressed 
by  looking  from  a  bridge  down  upon  mighty 
waters.  I  felt  that  I  must  become  a  part  of 
this  life,  leaving  the  old  behind. 

I  longed  to  join  the  home  circle,  and  al- 
ways left  with  a  sense  of  something  lacking, 
after  the  contemplation  of  one  of  those 
peaceful  scenes — a  little  adobe  house  nest- 
ling among  the  hills — flowers  blossoming 
about  it — birds  carolling  in  the  trees  and 
nearly  always  a  contented  woman  with  a 
sleeping  baby  in  her  arms. 

Coming  in  one  day  suddenly  I  discovered 
the  Seiiora  and  her  daughters  smoking  cig- 
arettes, which  they  quickly  threw  behind 
the  settee.  I  knew  smoking  was  customary 
but  I  didn't  believe  this  family  indulged  in 


I02     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

it.  At  the  theatres  the  men  smoke  so  that 
the  room  is  in  a  cloud  most  of  the  time  dur- 
ing the  play. 

The  women  in  Northern  Mexico  are  be- 
coming a  little  ashamed  of  the  practice,  and 
are  secretive  about  it.  American  ways  are 
beginning  to  be  adopted.  Some  ladies  are 
even  laying  aside  their  pretty  mantillas  on 
the  plazas  and  wearing  hats ;  tlie  more  loyal 
ones,  however,  look  as  sweet  and  coy  as 
their  mothers,  and  their  mother's  mothers 
looked. 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.     103 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  Mexicans  are  a  happy  people  in  their 
home  life.  But  with  all  their  love  for  home 
they  have  no  word  in  their  language  ex- 
pressive of  its  tender  meaning.  Casa  the 
word  they  use  means  merely  house.  They 
are  finished  in  the  delicate  art  of  evasion. 
A  secret  is  a  secret  which  all  the  powers  of 
earth  could  not  extract.  After  the  time 
spent  in  sleep  and  at  the  table,  the  hours  to 
be  spent  in  other  occupations  are  not  many, 
for  they  remain  at  the  table  exchanging 
news  and  pleasantries  more  than  an  hour 
each  meal,  and  when  one  considers  how 
many  meals  they  have  this  is  no  mean 
length  of  time.  Seiior  Carlos  always  got 
out  his  guitar  at  twilight,  and  sang  for  us, 


I04     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

songs  full  of  love,  every  note  a  sigh.  Both 
the  girls  played  the  mandolin,  and  the 
Seiiora  played  both  the  piano  and  the  guitar, 
so  there  was  no  dearth  of  music.  Every 
Mexican  girl  plays  a.  mandolin.  Her  edu- 
cation is  not  considered  complete  without  it. 
No  jacal  is  so  humble  but  that  the  tinkle 
of  the  mandolin  may  be  heard  within  its 
adobe  walls. 

They  learned  our  "Home,  Sweet  Home,'' 
and  played  it  with  so  much  tenderness  that 
I  invariably  listened  with  tear-dimmed  eyes. 
But  most  of  all  they  enjoyed  coon  songs.  I 
had  always  thought  these  undignified,  but 
one  evening  when  I  had  played  everything 
T  could  think  of  I  struck  up  "Miss  Ambolina 
Snow."  They  were  delighted,  for  to  them 
"Zas  negritas''  are  as  interesting  as  monkeys. 
One  sees  no  negroes  there,  unless  it  is  the 
few  very  st^iishly  dressed  ones  that  flaunt 
through  the  streets  with  their  heads  held 
higher  than  anyone  about  them. 

So  every  evening  they  would  insist  on 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.     105 

hearing  music  of  ''Las  negritas/'  and  g?g- 
gled  at  every  word  I  sang-,  alt!hough  tliey 
could  not  understand.  Seiior  Carlos  called 
his  sister  Rosita  "la  negrita/'  because  she 
was  so  dark,  and  had  such  big  black  eyes, 
and  the  cognomen  never  failed  to  arouse  her 
resentment.  She  frequently  so  far  forgot 
herself  as  to  throw  a  tortilla  across  the  table 
at  her  brother,  Seiiora  protesting :  "Ninas, 
niiias"  (children,  children).  Carlos  was  a 
dreadful  tease,  though.  The  Seiiora  had 
the  most  brilliant  coloring  for  a  woman  of 
her  age,  and  he  would  pat  her  face  and  de- 
clare his  mother  was  an  artist  in  painting. 
But  what  Carlos  said  was  always  perfect 
in  his  mother's  eyes. 

I  never  wearied  of  hearing  about  Senora's 
romantic  marriage.  She,  now  such  a  stately 
woman,  had  married  a  man  of  thirty-five, 
a  governor.  She  was  a  child  then,  just  thir- 
teen, and  the  pictures  of  her  taken  on  tlhat 
day  are  sweetly  innocent  and  lovely.  Around 
her  slender  throat  is  a  rope  of  pearls,  and  the 


io6     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

childish  hands  wear  the  old  family  wedding 
ring  and  the  engagement  solitaire,  so 
young  for  such  emblems  of  responsibility. 
She  had  brought  all  her  dolls  with  her,  and 
had  been  displeased  because  one  had  not 
been  allowed  to  lie  in  her  lap  in  the  picture. 
For  a  time  she  amused  herself  sewing  for 
her  dolls,  refusing  even  to  return  her  calls. 
Soon,  however,  she  tired  of  the  great  lonely 
house,  and  her  toys,  and  did  not  hesitate  to 
say  so,  and,  despairing  of  managing  the  ser- 
vants, cried  to  go  home.  So  he  took  her 
back  to  spend  a  few  weeks,  her  mother  re- 
turning with  her  to  the  new  home.  She 
stood  "With  very  reluctant  feet — where 
womanhood  and  childhood  meet."  Yet, 
many  of  the  girls  there,  of  all  classes,  as- 
sume such  responsibilities  at  this  early 
age. 

In  this  old  house  of  memories,  that  had 
been  standing  more  than  a  hundred  years 
mice  and  cockroaches  abounded.  Every 
few  weeks  the  girls  and  their  mother  would 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.     107 

start  on  a  tour  of  the  house  ridding  it  of 
these  unwelcome  tenants.  This  they  did 
not  trust  to  the  servants.  For  some  reason 
the  girls  imagined  they  must  remove  their 
stocl^ings  for  the  fray,  and  wear  only  their 
little  slippers,  which  were  so  small  they 
looked  as  if  they  might  have  belonged  to 
Cinderella. 

It  was  great  fun  to  watch  this  game,  for 
such  they  made  it.  With  skirts  lifted  high 
tihey  would  give  chase,  and  if  the  mouse 
came:  their  way  they  struck  at  it  with  a 
broom,  made  for  the  nearest  chair,  and 
shrieked  as  women  will  the  world  over  for 
a  mouse. 

This  was  the  only  work  they  did,  week  in 
and  week  out.  Almost  the  whole  afternoon 
was  passed  in  slumber,  and  afterward  came 
"visitas"  or  shopping,  or  that  endless  pac- 
ing around  the  plaza.  They  never  tire  of 
this  if  they  live  single  till  they  are  forty. 
After  marriage  they  do  not  come  to  the 
plaza  so  much.     Of  course,  during  the  hon- 


io8     An  American  Girl  in   Mexico. 

eymoon,  they  do  not  miss  this  opportunity 
for  dress  parade.  Nothing  could  be  m<^re 
demure  and  coquettish  than  Rosita  in  her 
plaza  attire,  with  always  a  sparkling  fan- 
chain — and  who  knows  so  well  how  to  wield 
a  fan  as  a  Spanish  maiden?  Her  black 
hair  she  wears  high  on  her  ihead  with  a  tor- 
toise-shell comb  over  which  she  drapes  her 
soft  mantilla,  and  peeps  from  beneath  it 
with  the  most  bewitchingly  conscious  air 
one  can  imagine.  She  manages  with  in- 
imitable grace  her  beruffled  skirts  the  man- 
tilla, and  fher  fan ;  nor  ever  forgets  a  certain 
toss  of  her  head,  so  coy  that  people  sit  and 
watch  for  her  to  pass — her  tiny  high-heeled 
shoes  clicking  daintily  on  the  stone  walk — 
a  Mexican  girl  whom  it  would  be  easy  for 
the  most  invulnerable  American  to  lose  his 
heart  to.  The  conscious  air  and  the  elusive 
coquettish  manner  harmonize  so  perfectly 
with  all  else  in  that  land  of  dreams.  Mexi- 
cans put  on  mourning  for  the  most  remote 
relative. 


An  American  Girl  In  Mexico.     109 

One  evening  I  found  Concepcion,  a  som- 
bre figure  in  black,  crying.  She  told  me 
that  a  cousin  of  hers  had  just  died,  but  when 
I  tried  to  comfort  her,  she  said : 

"Oh,  I'm  not  crying  for  that.  I  didn't 
know  him.  I'm  crying  because  I  have  to 
wear  this  ugly  black  a  month,  and  can't 
go  on  the  plaza." 

As  a  people  they  do  not  believe  in  each 
other.  A  mother  questions  her  daughter's 
word,  and  a  daughter  doubts  her  mother. 
One  evening  when  I  came  home  Seiiora 
asked  me  if  I  had  seen  her  girls  on  the 
plaza.  I  said  "No,"  thoughtlessly,  for  I 
hadn't  noticed.  When  they  came  I  heard  a 
volley  of  as  harsh  words  as  their  language 
can  express,  and  Senora  saying:  ''Mentira, 
mentira,''  which,  in  pure  nervous  English,  is 
liar.  Concepcion  slipped  up  to  me  and  said 
in  her  excitable  little  voice: 

"Why  in  the  world  didn't  you  say  you  saw 
us  on  the  plaza?  She  will  never  believe  us 
now." 


I  lo     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

It  seemed  to  me  so  strange  that  a  moth- 
er as  devoted  as  theirs  could  doubt  the  state- 
ment of  her  grown  daughters.  It  is  said 
that  a  Spaniard's  surveillance  of  his  wife 
is  unceasing — with  the  eye  of  a  hawk  he 
watches  her  every  movement,  and  yet  I  have 
seen  the  stealthy  exchange  of  missives  on  the 
plaza,  times  innumerable,  between  people  I 
knew  were  supposed  to  be  happily  married, 
to  some  one  else.  This  is  why  one  man 
has  written  of  them,  "A  land  whose  flowers 
have  no  perfume,  men  no  honor,  and  women 
no  virtue." 

Yet  how  can  one  blame  them,  with  their 
foolish  customs.  To  them  the  iron-barred 
window  with  the  face  behind  is  the  shrine 
before  which  they  worship.  Between  lov- 
ers there  has  never  been  a  conversation  per- 
haps until  engaged,  and  they  meet  after  the 
engagement  only  in  the  presence  of  the 
girl's  family,  so  that  they  are  necessarily 
mere  strangers  on  the  day  they  become  hus- 
band  and   wife.     Even    at    balls,    between 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico,     i  t  i 

dances,  a  young  man  leaves  his  partner  im- 
mediately and  usually  goes  from  the  room 
to  smoke  until  the  next  number.  And  their 
dancing  is  such  a  rapid,  pretty  whirl,  that, 
although  they  make  the  most  of  the  oppor- 
tunity, there  is  small  chance  for  conversa- 
tion. 

One  night  a  young  man  sat  behind  me  in 
the  ball  room  and  discussed  me  with  a 
friend  in  painfully  audible  tones 

"Isn't  the  Seiiorita  beautiful — her  hair 
is  like  sunshine,  and  her  eyes — did  you  ever 
see  such  eyes?"  were  the  kind  of  remarks 
that  came  to  me,  and  made  me  wonderfully 
uncomfortable  and  indignant.  I  tried  to 
persuade  myself  that  they  didn't  know  who 
I  was,  until  he  leaned  nearer  me  and  said 
even  more  distinctly : 

"She  is  divinely  tall — don't  you  think 
so?    Most  Americans  are." 

A  little  later  he  rusihed  up  to  my  partner 
and  said: 

"I  wish  to  meet  the  Americano.-'     This  is 


112     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

no  uncommon  way  for  them  to  request  an 
introduction,  but  my  turn  had  come. 

"I  regret,  Seiior,  that  my  acquaintance 
is  already  sufficiently  large,"  I  said,  and 
started  to  turn  away,  but  he  stepped  in 
front  of  me,  with  an  amazed  expression  on 
his  face.  I  saw  that  he  did  not  understand 
my  action  so  I  reminded  him  of  his  conduct 
of  a  moment  earlier.  He  seemed  even  more 
astonished. 

"Am  I  then  not  to  say  so  if  I  like  your 
looks?"  he  asked. 

"I  prefer  that  you  should  refrain  from 
doing  so  in  my  hearing,"  I  answered  him. 

"You  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  are  dis- 
pleased because)  I  admire  your  hair  and 
eyes?  Truly,  Senorita,  you  are  an  excep- 
tional woman.  But  I  beg  your  pardon,  if 
that's  what  you  wish,  though  I  know  not 
why  I  should.  Will  you  dance  with  me?" 
he  concluded. 

"I'd  rather  not,  if  you  cannot  see  wherein 
you  have  erred." 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.      113 

"Oh,  Senorita.,  I  see  from  your  stand- 
jx>int,  but  you  Americans  are  so  peculiar 
and  hard  to  understand.  Will  you  not  par- 
don me  this  once?"  So  I  did.  And  'tis  a 
fact  that  their  women  are  most  pleased  with 
such  flattery.  While  a  man  dare  not  walk 
with  one  alone  in  the  street  he  is  no  less  a 
gentleman  if  he  says  something  flattering 
as  she  passes — not  to  her  but  of  her. 

On  the  street  it  really  is  most  annoying 
the  way  they  do.  A  man  will  deliberately 
turn  and  exclaim  "Que  hermosa!''  ("how 
beautiful,")  and  feel  that  he  has  paid  you 
the  highest  tribute.  They  sometimes  even 
stop  their  carriage  and  follow  a  girl  out  of 
sight  with  their  eyes.  It  is  useless  to  resent 
it,  for  the  lesson  would  have  to  be  taught  to 
the  entire  masculine  portion  of  the  Repub- 
lic, who  know  from  experience  that  flattery 
is  the  open  sesame  to  a  Seuorita's  favor. 
Senor  Carlos  had  a  friend  who  used  to  come 
to  see  him  every  few  days — 'twas  another 


114     ^^^  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

''Damon  and  Pythias"  devotion.  This 
friend  began  to  bring  a  box  of  ''diilces'^  to 
me  each  visit,  and  watch  me  more  each  time 
and  make  little  side  remarks  to  the  family 
that  I  could  not  but  see  were  favorable.  One 
day  he  said  to  Carlos  in  my  presence:  "I 
wish  I  had  seen  the  Seuorita  three  years  ago, 
before  I  married."  I  was  greatly  surprised, 
for  he  was  such  a  slender^  youthful  looking 
man,  with  such  a  boyish  face.  I  did  not  go 
into  the  parlor  the  next  time  he  came,  and 
he  sent  word  to  me,  "Please  to  come."  But 
I  pleaded  the  time-worn  excuse  of  a  head- 
fiche,  and  then  he  sent  me  a  little  note  in 
his  best  English,  of  which  he  was  very 
proud.     It  ran : 

"Senorita; 

"No  stars  shine  in  my  heaven  this  day. 
Your  eyes  are  my  stars.  Without  them  I 
have  no  light.     May  I  be  lonely? 

"Enrique." 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.      1 1 5 

Beneath  the  signature  of  every  letter, 
however  informal,  there  is  a  sort  of  peculiar 
flourish — ithe  more  elaborate,  the  better. 
Without  it  no  note  has  any  importance. 
This  ''Tiihica"  is  taught  at  school.  Always 
before  giving  away  a  photograph  they  in- 
scribe on  the  back  some  pretty  verse  or  sen- 
timent. In  the  dainty  little  hand  with  the 
'^ruhica"  particularly  elaborate  Rosita 
wrote  on  the  picture  that  she  gave  me : 

"A  tu,  mi  predilecta  de  todas  otras,  la 
mas  hermosa  y  divina.  Rosita." 

Which  translated  is :  "To  thee,  my  favor- 
ite of  all  others,  the  most  beautiful  and 
divine.  Rosita." 

One  day  I  missed  my  watch,  the  favorite 
of  all  my  belongings,  and  I  turned  my  room 
upside  down  before  I  gave  the  alarm.  The 
servants  were  arraigned,  one  by  one,  and  un- 
hesitatingly accused  by  the  family.  Each 
denied  it.    In  fact,  I  don't  believe  there  was 


ii6     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

a  servant  in  the  house  who  knew  I  had  a 
watch  at  all.  I  felt  quite  sure  that  Trinidad, 
my  maid,  was  guilty,  but  her  tearful  face 
and  heartrending  protestations  of  innocence 
made  me  feel  like  a  culprit  myself. 

"How  can  you  believe  I  could  steal  your 
watch,  Seiiorita,  when  you  have  been  so 
good  to  me  and  have  given  me  so  many 
pretty  things?"  she  would  say  tearfully. 

So  I  let  Trinidad  go,  and  even  begged  her 
pardon.  Of  course,  I  cried  over  the  loss  of 
my  watch,  and  it  was  many  months  before 
I  recovered  it.  A  friend  discovered  it  in  one 
of  the  many  pawnshops,  and  it  had  been  left 
there  by  a  girl  whose  name  was  Trinidad 
Garcia  de  Calzado.  So  my  "innocent"  maid 
was  guilty. 

The  government  has  a  pawnshop  in  every 
city.  It  is  called  the  '^Montc  de  Piedad/'  or 
"Mountain  of  Piety,"  and  is  really  a  godsend 
to  the  peons,  who  can  borrow  money  on 
anything  there.  It  is  a  nice  place  to  visit. 
There  are  carriages  of  the  richest  with  tags 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.     117 

hung  over  the  monograms,  cradles  of  the 
poorest,  with  no  monograms  to  hide — 
dresses,  machines  and  anything  but  live 
stock,  at  this  Monte  de  Piedad.  The  interest 
on  the  loan  is  small,  and  when  the  time  has 
run  out  with  the  article  unredeemed  it  is 
sold  and  the  price,  less  the  loan  and  interest, 
returned  to  the  original  owner.  Rare  old 
jewels  can  be  picked  up  there  for  a  song. 
I  knew  a  man  who  bought  a  blue  fan  made 
in  1300  of  something  like  pearl  which  cost 
him  thirty  dollars  Mexican  money ;  in  a  few 
days  he  refused  an  offer  of  a  hundred  dollars 
in  gold  for  it. 

The  peons'  propensity  for  purloining  is 
not  exaggerated.  They  carry  long  hooks, 
which  tihey  use  for  dragging  counterpanes 
off  a  bed  or  a  rug  from  a  propitious  spot  in 
the  room;  they  literally  "hook"  any  article 
they  can,  and  there  are  many  accessible 
things  to  be  reached  through  the  iron  win- 
dows. They  are  professional  beggars,  com- 
mencing it  from  the  day  they  can  lisp  out 


ii8     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

^^un  ccntavo/^  and  never  attain  an  age  at 
which  they  are  ashamed  to  beg. 

Adults  are  restricted  to  Saturday  as  a 
day  for  begging,  and  though  they  use  all 
days,  if  a  person  cares  to  be  so  heartless, 
he  can  have  one  arrested  for  doing  so.  Such 
distressing  numbers  of  cripples  as  one  en- 
counters! Some  claim  that  children  are 
crippled  by  their  guardians  in  order  that 
they  may  be  more  successful  beggars.  This 
though  is  hard  to  believe,  as  one  of  their 
admirable  traits  is  their  love  for  their  chil- 
dren, and  they  do  have  such  scope  for  an 
exhibition  of  this  love  in  their  enormous 
families. 

There  are  no  tennis  courts  nor  golf  links 
among  the  Spanish,  No  basket-ball  teams 
nor  bicycle  clubs  to  give  a  healthful  rose 
tint  to  the  cheeks;  the  soft  olive  of  their 
skin  is  nature's  gift  to  her  most  indolent 
child.  They  are  neither  tall  nor  fair,  but 
they  are  slight — every  movement  is  full  of 
grace,   and  they  are  essentially  feminine. 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.     119 

Because  they  do  not  indulge  in  athletics 
and  "go  in"  for  the  "higher  education"  of 
women,  detracts  nothing  from  their  person- 
ality, and  they  are  thoroughly  simpatica. 
The  limit  that  it  is  considered  well  for  a 
girl  to  reach  in  school  is  not  as  high  as  an 
American  would  sanction,  but  they  see  no 
need  for  higher  mathematics  and  science. 

When  a  girl  has  learned  to  write  the  most 
diminutive  faint  hand — to  express  herself 
extravagantly  in  poetic  language — the  spell- 
ing mostly  correct,  there  is  no  fault  to  be 
found  with  her  literary  education.  Schools 
are  as  primitive  as  everything  else  in  Mex- 
ico. The  small  children  study  aloud  like 
the  Chinese,  and  to  a  person  passing  a  school 
house  it  sounds  like  buzzing  bees. 

The  children  of  a  family  usually  take  the 
surname  of  tihe  mother,  and  when  the  father 
dies  the  mother  always  signs  herself 
"widow"  of  Senor,  whoever  he  is.  This  cus- 
tom seems  very  strange  to  Americans  whose 
mother's  name  is  alw^ays  lost  at  the  altar. 


I20     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

But  there  are  many  things  strange  about  the 
Mexicans. 

"Andele — andele — vamonos"  ( "hurry — 
hurry — let  us  go," )  calls  out  the  blue  uni- 
formed conductor — in  sharp  contrast  to  the 
prosaic  "All  aboard''  we  are  accustomed  to 
hearing. 

At  every  stop  Americans  clamber  down  to 
gaze  wonderingly  upon  the  novel  scene 
about  them,  until  this  pretty  note  of  warn- 
ing is  given. 

When  one  contemplates  a  tour  the  initial 
consideration  is  the  wherewithal  to  meet  in- 
cidental expenses — the  anticipation  of  which 
makes  him  without  a  bottomless  pocket 
shudder  with  apprehension.  The  popular 
conception  of  a  tourist  is  one  whose  pockets 
fairly  bulge  with  money.  Story  books — the 
touring  gilded  fool  whose  actions  prompted 
some  wiseacre  to  observe  that  "a  fool  and 
his  money  soon  part,"  and  the  time-worn 
newspaper  joke  of  the  young  man  w^ho 
slaves  all  the  year  for  a  salary  in  three  fig- 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.     121 

ures  and  parts  with  twenty  dollars  for  a 
foreign  supper,  are  responsible  for  the  erro- 
neous idea. 

Another  popular  conception  is  that  the  in- 
habitants of  all  foreign  countries  are  a  set 
of  professional  pickpockets,  who,  in  a  fig- 
urative sense,  keep  their  hands  constantly 
down  in  the  pockets  of  the  traveller. 

Tourists  who  honor  our  sister  Republic 
with  a  visit  are  surprised  at  the  insignifi- 
cance of  expenses.  The  greatest  leveler  of 
life  is  travel.  Cinders,  delayed  trains,  and 
impossible  sandwiches  are  no  respecters  of 
persons.  These  touches  of  nature  make  the 
whole  world  kin.  The  ever  changing  scen- 
ery and  the  shifting  stream  of  humanity 
lend  an  interest  to  travel  that  is  fascinating 
and  demoralizing.  How  infinitely  more  en- 
joyable to  roll  through  the  stony  streets  in  a 
peculiar  old  fashioned  coach  than  in  modem 
rubber-tired  carriage. 

Nothing  could  be  more  charming  than  a 
string  of  these  old  coaches  to  be  seen  there 


122     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

any  day.  Nothing  bespeaks  their  lack  of 
progress  more  plainly  tlhan  the  vehicles  they 
use.  Every  great  change  the  world  has  seen 
has  been  marked  by  a  change  of  vehicle. 
They  are  mile  posts  in  the  world's  progress. 
While  in  appearance  their  trains  are  like 
ours,  the  several  grades  of  travel  make  a  vast 
difference.  It  is  a  kind  of  first-class-passen- 
ger-stay-in-and-ride  —  second-class-passen- 
ger-get-out-and-walk  — '  third-class-passen- 
ger-get-out-and-push  affair  that  is  alleged  to 
have  existed  in  the  old  stage  coach  era.  To 
begin  with!  the  third-class  and  end  in  a 
luxurious  Pullman,  is  immeasurably  better 
than  starting  in  a  Pullman  and  ending 
amid  the  squalor  and  unutterable  woe  of  the 
^'pobres."  "No  eqiiijmje  con  holetos  de  ter- 
cera  class/'  reads  a  third-class  ticket. 
This  ostracism  of  luggage  on  a  third-class 
ticket  falls,  a  harmless  shaft,  at  the  feet  of 
the  ''pohres/' 

Had  the  officials  ruled  that  they  must  car- 
ry baggage  in  order  to  ride,  they  would  in- 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.     123 

deed  have  worked  a  hardsliip  on  them,  for 
they  do  not  possess  a  rag  which  is  not  doing 
actual  service.  They  repose  stolidly,  if  not 
comfortably,  on  a  bench  built  along  the  side 
of  a  coach,  the  poverty  of  appointments  and 
unclean  condition  of  which  does  not  in  the 
least  disconcert  them.  In  these  third-class 
coaches  lie  the  possibilities  of  smallpox,  for, 
in  contagious  diseases,  ^Mexicans  are  very 
acquisitive.  They  all  have  smallpox.  It 
stamps  upon  their  faces  a  visible  proclama- 
tion that  they  have  lived  up  to  the  tenets  of 
the  times. 

Far  more  reasonable  in  price — their  ho- 
tels make  up  in  novelty  what  they  lack  in 
system  and  haste.  The  servants  are  docile 
and  pleasing,  and  do  not  consider  that  they 
hold  the  destiny  of  the  establishment  in  the 
hollow  of  their  hands. 

One  does  not  have  to  wander  block  after 
block  with  his  weather  eye  out  for  a  lunch 
stand.  The  ^4iole  culinary  talent  of  the 
city  turns  out  en  masse  seeking  whom  they 


124     A'"'  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

can  find  to  devour  their  wares — "huevos 
cosidos"  (boiled  eggs,)  "camotes"  (sweet 
potatoes,)  and  other  things  which  would 
appeal  only  to  a  very  vitiated  and  suscepti- 
ble palate.  At  every  corner  one  is  beset  by 
these  venders,  who  insist  that  you  take 
something  for  your  stomach's  sake,  and  for 
that  very  reason  you  desist. 

A  vagary  of  Mexican  character  that  is  well 
nigh  baffling,  to  a  student  of  human  nature, 
is  their  vacillating  understanding  of  "In- 
gles/' (English).  In  stipulating  terms  of 
exchange  or  barter  their  understanding  of 
English  and  monetary  denominations  is 
perfect.  If  given  too  little,  they  immedi- 
ately devise  a  means  of  conveying  to  you  in 
no  uncertain  manner  that  something  more 
is  coming  to  them ;  if  paid  too  much,  and  one 
attempts  to  impress  them  with  the  fact,  all 
understanding  forsakes  them,  they  become 
exasperatingly  obtuse,  and  it  is  almost  like 
"holding  a  man  up"  to  get  your  money  back. 
Curios  can  be  had  for  a  trifle  if  bought  in 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.     125 

the  streets  and  markets;  however,  if  one 
wanders  into  their  lovely  shops,  he  emerges 
from  its  alluring  precincts  a  sadder  but  a 
wiser  man,  feeling  as  though  he  had  gone 
through  the  extracting  processes  of  an 
American  church  bazaar. 

Another  paramount  consideration  when 
going  touring,  is,  "What  shall  I  wear?" 
Ever  since  Mother  Eve  vainly  arrayed  her- 
self in  fig  leaves,  dress  has  been  a  neces- 
sary commodity  in  all  civilized  countries, 
and  has  come  to  be  considered  the  keynote 
to  one's  character.  For  a  tour  of  Mexico, 
the  only  preparation  necessary  is  to  haul 
down  a  few  of  your  summer  clothes  that 
have  escaped  the  rag  man  and  take  a  light 
wrap  for  evenings  on  the  plaza.  It  is  said 
that  a  person  going  out  after  sunset  with- 
out a  light  wrap  is  liable  to  instantaneous 
pneumonia.  Thus  you  are  amply  equipped 
for  passage  through  the  domain  of 
the  Montezumas.  However,  if  you  wish  to 
be  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes  and  '^muy  ele- 


126     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

gante/'  according  to  the  dictates  of  Mexican 
propriety,  provide  yourself  with  several  bril- 
liantly colored  costumes;  above  all  things 
wear  no  short  skirts,  and  your  prome- 
nades on  the  plaza  will  be  one  long  triumph 
from  a  standpoint  of  individual  attention. 
Among  the  climatic  peculiarities  is  the  fact, 
so  they  afiflrm,  that  one  stepping  out  of  a 
darkened  room  into  the  ever  radiant  light 
is  in  danger  of  being  struck  blind. 

Their  distinctive  love  for  flashy  colors 
has  always  been  unaccountable  to  tourists, 
unless  attributed  to  their  geograpTiical  loca- 
tion. It  is  characteristic  of  people  who  live 
near  the  heart  of  nature  and  especially  peo- 
ple in  tropical  or  semi-tropical  lands,  where 
the  delicate  brush  of  nature  has  given  to  the 
plumage  of  every  bird,  and  petal  of  every 
flower,  a  matchless  brilliancy.  Their  eyes 
have  become  trained  to  it  and  they  look  upon 
all  neutral  shades  as  a  direct  departure  from 
nature.  Brilliant  hues  lend  to  life  a  gaiety 
dear  to  the  heart  of  every  Mexican.     The 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.     127 

'^pobres"  in  their  bright  blankets  attract 
the  attention  of  all  tourists,  who  shower 
down  pennies  to  the  motley  throng  at  every 
station  in  order  to  watch  the  feverish 
scrambling  of  agile  children  and  decrepit 
mendicants.    It  is  a  fair  field  and  no  favors. 


128     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

We  had  been  planning  the  trip  for  some 
time  before  we  took  it,  the  Seiiora  and 
her  three  daughters.  But  at  last  we 
shook  the  dust  of  Monterey  from  our 
feet  and  left  for  Mexico  City. 

We  spent  a  few  days  at  Saltillo,  and  1 
have  wondered  that  more  Americans  do  not 
spend  their  summers  there.  The  matchless 
climate,  the  awe-inspiring  mountains,  and 
the  quaint  picturesqueness  of  the  little 
place,  unite  in  making  it  a  particularly 
charming  resort. 

The  sunsets  of  Mexico!  Above  all  else 
in  beauty  impossible  of  description — it 
daily  sheds  its  luminous  colors  over  that 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.     129 

pretty  world  to  overwhelm  traveller  and 
dweller  alike  with,  its  wondrous  beauty. 
"When  the  longest  day  at  last  bows  down 
to  evening"  and  the  great  sun  sinks  slowly 
to  rest  behind  some  lone  mountain  and  na- 
ture throws  her  calcium  lights  with  their 
matchless  glints  and  tints  upon  the  vast  can- 
vas of  the  heavens,  the  soul  is  enthralled  as 
things  mundane  lose  themselves  in  the 
sweetness  and  solemnity  of  the  spell. 

Boarding  houses  are  almost  unknown, 
and  so  strong  is  their  feeling  against  pub- 
licity in  domestic  life  that  a  girl,  or  a  girl 
with  her  mother,  cannot  call  on  a  friend  at 
a  hotel  without  jeopardizing  her  good  stand- 
ing. To  rent  a  house  in  Mexico  is  a  sort  of 
hide  and  seek  game  without  the  fun.  One 
must  trudge  up  one  stony  street  and  down 
another  with  furtive  glance  directed  toward 
every  ironbarred  window  for  the  inevitable 
little  fluttering  paper  sign  of  vacant  houses. 
Most  of  these  are  viviendas  or  suites  of 
rooms  that  rent  for  any  fabulous  figure  the 


130     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

owner  dares  name;  the  higher  upstairs,  the 
deeper  in  pocket. 

The  hotels  which  are  so  good  here  are  won- 
derfully cheap.  But  life  is  cheap  anywhere 
in  Mexico.  F'or  the  same  price  in  Mexican 
money  that  one  would  have  to  pay  in  gold 
in  the  States  a  person  can  board  there  at 
delightfully  foreign  places. 

As  the  train  flashes  into  the  tropics 
through  lands  bright  with  sunshine,  stream- 
ing green  foliage  and  tropical  sky,  the  trav- 
eller's face  loses  its  look  of  vacant  half  in- 
quiry, for  one  of  pleased  wonder  and  vague 
delight  in  the  shifting  scene  about  him — the 
peculiar  people  and  the  more  peculiar 
names;  names  such  as  ''Canon  de  las  zopo- 
lotes^'  (Canon  of  the  turkey-buzzards),  and 
Cuernavaca  (Horn  of  a  Cow). 

The  trip  from  Saltillo  to  San  Luis  P'otosi 
is  lovely,  every  moment  one  of  interest.  The 
way  is  lined  with  great  Spanish  dagger 
plants  as  tall  as  oak  trees.  A  thousand  par- 
rots scream  in  the  forests  as  the  train  rat- 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.      131 

ties  by.  At  every  stopping  place,  and  there 
is  one  every  few  miles — peddlers  meet  the 
train  crying  out  their  wares,  which  consist 
mostly  of  little  horn  trays  and  the  pretty 
bright  woolen  serapes  or  blankets. 

One  old  man  tried  to  coax  me  into  buying 
a  toy  he  exhibited  with  much  pride — made  of 
dry  corn-stalks.  It  was  something  between 
a  carpenter's  sawhorse  a  horse  and  a  rab- 
bit. I  don't  believe  there  is  a  child  in  the 
United  States  who  would  have  enjoyed  play- 
ing with  it. 

Our  purses  received  the  most  guarded  pro- 
tection during  these  peddlers'  invasion  of  the 
train,  for  they  have  a  very  unsavory  repu- 
tation as  '"rateros"  or  thieves  lying  in  wait 
for  every  train — literally  lying  in  wait,  for 
they  bring  their  blankets  and  sleep  by  the 
track  until  the  train  comes  in.  They  are 
not  notified  of  the  change  of  schedule,  but 
that  makes  no  difference — they  know  it  has 
to  come  some  time  and  they  have  nothing 
else  to  do  but  wait. 


132     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

We  spent  a  week  at  San  Luis  Potosi  in  the 
home  of  Seiiora's  brother,  who  had  a  sweet 
sad-faced  wife  and  three  little  girls,  and  we 
were  royally  entertained,  I  enjoyed  most 
the  evenings  on  the  plaza,  listening  to  the 
band.  No  music  can  express  the  love,  the 
heartache  and  the  yearning  that  theirs  does, 
and  in  San  Luis  it  was  particularly  beauti- 
ful. There  is  music  in  the  very  air — music 
peculiar  to  the  country  and  the  people. 
Nothing  could  be  more  exquisite  than  their 
"Home,  Sweet,  Home"  found  in  the  strains 
of  "La  Golondrina."  When  away  from  his 
native  land  a  Mexican's  eyes  fill  with  tears 
at  the  first  notes  of  this  air,  and  he  dreams 
of  his  adobe  or  marble  home  with  brightly 
glistening  eyes.  It  strikes  the  soul  of  the 
stoutest,  sternest  native  of  that  sentimental 
land. 

Intense,  emotional,  and  high-spirited  as 
the  Mexicans  are,  one  is  impressed  by  the 
absence  of  insanity  unless  produced  by  a 
peculiar    opium.     However,    there    was    a 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 


JO 


beautiful  girl  near  us  who  became  insane 
about  music,  a  daughter  of  one  of  the  best 
families.  Mexicans  are  rigid  in  the  enforce- 
ment of  their  law  that  there  shall  beno music 
after  ten  o'clock  at  night,  unless  at  a  ball. 
No  private  family  is  safe  from  arrest  who  al- 
lows music  after  ten,  but  this  family  have  a 
special  permit  for  their  daughter,  and  al- 
most any  night  after  twelve  she  may  be  seen 
on  the  roof  of  her  home  bowing  and  smiling 
her  acceptance  of  imaginary  floral  tributes, 
her  clear  voice  ringing  out  sweet  and  start- 
ling on  the  midnight  air.  She  imagines 
herself  a  prima  donna,  and  such  she  doubt- 
less would  have  been  but  for  the  mis- 
fortune of  diverted  faculties.  More  than 
one  person  strolls  over  to  Dr.  Goss  street 
late  each  evening,  and  stands,  rapt,  listen- 
ing to  this  poor  nightingale,  unable  to  real- 
ize that  the  beautiful  human  songbird  is  a 
crazed  creature,  a  rarity  indeed  in  that  land 
of  enchantment. 

Our  Americans  are  not  slow  to  see  the 


134     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

possibilities  of  a  new  country,  and  Mexi- 
co is  practically  a  new  country,  and  they  are 
rapidly  awakening  to  the  fact  that  not  far 
from  us  lies  a  land  blessed  by  a  glorious  cli- 
mate and  imbedded  with  rich  minerals,  un- 
til several  millions  of  American  dollars  are 
invested  there  in  mining  properties  monthly. 
I  knew  an  American  boy  who  opened  a 
photograph  gallery  there,  and  he  and  a 
friend  invested  their  little  savings  in  an  old 
mine  that  was  thought  to  be  worthless.  His 
salary  was  small,  and  his  expenditures  nat- 
"arally  less,  but  their  determination  never 
wavered.  When  they  eventually  got  pos- 
session of  the  mine  they  interested  Northern 
capital;  and  the  young  photographer  re- 
cently sold  one-third  of  his  interest  for  a 
quarter  of  a  million  dollars  in  gold.  Of 
course  this  turn  of  affairs  may  be  called 
luck,  but,  after  all,  "luck  is  pluck."  A 
Mexican  thinks  money  by  inheritance  the 
only  money  worth  having, — perhaps  being 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.     135 

reared  in  that  sleepy  clime  makes  them  the 
languorous  people  they  are. 

No  land  under  the  shining  sun  is  more 
wondeirful,  more  peculiarly  interesting 
than  the  historic  land  of  the  Montezumas. 
From  the  time  of  the  sun  worshippers  down 
to  the  time  of  the  Diaz  worshippers,  its 
thrilling  history  reads  with  a  romantic 
charm  that  is  indescribable.  Lying  for  cen- 
turies wrapt  in  slumber,  it  seemed  all  un- 
mindful of  the  progress  of  other  lands.  Like 
Kip  Van  Winkle,  when  it  did  awake,  it 
strenuously  resisted  all  innovations  in  the 
least  calculated  to  disturb  its  time-honored 
ways  and  traditions.  But  the  restless,  re- 
sistless spirit  of  the  twentieth  century  is  si- 
lently stealing  in  upon  it,  and  while  the 
changes  of  the  past  decade  were  in  gradual 
process  of  evolution,  they  were  scarcely  per- 
ceived by  those  living  there.  Despite  these 
changes,  were  one  borne,  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye,  from  the  Arctic  region,  with 
its     rigorous     atmosphere     and     bleakly 


136     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

desolate  landscape,  to  the  tropics,  where 
the  lavish  hand  of  nature  has  given  to  every 
tree  and  flower  such  perfect  form,  he  would 
be  no  more  struck  with  the  wonder  of  the 
transition  than  he  is  when  he  is  whisked 
across  the  Rio  Grande  into  Mexico.  Tour- 
ists return  from  that  winterless  land  won- 
dering at  the  vagaries  of  nature.  But  at 
last  God's  masterpiece,  man,  is  the  most 
wonderful  of  all,  and  to  the  studenit  of 
human  nature  who  loves  to  w^atch  the 
faults,  the  fancies  and  the  virtues  of  his 
fellowmen,  the  people  of  Mexico  are  a  source 
of  pleasant  research.  Indolence  is  a  nar 
tional  heritage,  handed  down  from  an  un*- 
broken  line  of  luxury  loving  ancestry. 
They  drift  and  dream  their  lives  away  to  the 
tinkle  of  the  guitar.  In  the  even  tenor  of 
every-day  life  they  are  most  passive,  yet, 
when  aroused,  their  love,  hate  and  jealousy, 
their  emotions  and  passions  amount  to  hy- 
steria. 

At  the  markets  are  stalls  where  butterine 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.     137 

is  sold.  This  butterine  is  all  made  by  an 
American  woman  who  got  a  concession  to 
make  it,  selling  every  pound  for  fifty  cents, 
Mexican  money.  Her  butterine  goes  all 
over  the  Riepublic ;  no  one  else  can  make  it 
without  buying  part  of  her  concession  from 
her.  This  is  one  of  the  advantages  of  Mex- 
ico for  any  enterprise,  as  there  can  be  no 
competition. 

''Mantequilla,  mantequilla/^  ("butter,") 
^'hlancias"  ("eggs,")  "Icche,"  (milk,)  was 
the  droning  cry  I  heard  all  about  me  in  the 
market  place,  when  at  my  side,  to  my  pleased 
surprise,  I  heard  a  substantial  American 
voice  call  out:  "Fresh  butter  here!"  It  was 
a  stolid  business-like  looking  American  wo- 
man presiding  over  her  stall  amid  that  sea 
of  foreign  faces. 

When  progressive  Americans  see  the  na- 
tives actually  plowing  with  crooked  sticks, 
and  using  other  such  primitive  means  of 
agriculture,  it  is  surprising  that  more  peo- 


138     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

pie  do   not  hasten  to   seek  their  fortunes 
there. 

Only  by  evincing  interest  and  admiration 
can  an  American  gain  entree  into  Mexican 
society — a  society  never  so  gregarious  as  in 
the  North,  and,  among  patricians,  far  more 
exclusive.  Ignorance  of  their  language — 
the  only  possible  social  medium — is  a  bar  to 
intimacy.  Broken  Spanish  as  well  as  brok- 
en English  gives  one  a  childlike,  perhapa 
simple  air,  and  in  serious  moments  this  be- 
comes taxing.  Pleasurable  conversation 
depends  on  all  participants  recognizing  and 
appreciating  the  delicate  shades  of  the 
tongue  in  which  it  is  carried  on.  Ameri- 
cans and  Mexicans  cherish  the  most  elab- 
orate misunderstandings  of  one  another  be- 
cause of  the  inability  of  each  to  come  into 
closer  contact.  While  the  language  is  nat- 
ural and  rhythmical,  they  seem  to  delight  in 
unpronounceable  names  for  places.  Izmict- 
lanapochalocca  is  the  name  of  a  port  which 
the  soul  reaches  on  its  journey  heavenward. 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.     139 

Iztaccihuatl  or  La  Mujer  Blanca  (The  Wo- 
man in  White)  is  the  lofty  mountain  near 
Mexico  City  that  presents  the  appearance  of 
a  woman  on  a  massive  white  bier,  wrapped 
in  her  shroud  of  everlasting  snow;  lying 
there,  her  figure  is  perfectly  outlined,  with 
her  hands  folded  on  her  breast — ^another  of 
nature's  peculiar  departures. 

Before  reaching  Mexico  City  we  passed 
through  a  canon  called  Infernillo,  (Little 
Hell)  full  warm  enough  to  warrant  the 
name. 

San  Luis  Potosi  is  a  pretty  white  city  of 
low  flat  topped  houses,  but  when,  at  the  end 
of  the  week  we  landed  at  the  grand  capital, 
I  forgot  San  Luis,  forgot  everything  but  the 
beauty  about  me.  Every  one  that  goes  there 
is  struck  with  the  dazzling  whiteness  of  the 
city.  The  very  first  breath  of  air  is  wonder- 
ful. For  the  first  few  days  one  does  feel 
the  eight  thousand  feet  altitude  by  short- 
ness of  breath.  This  is  first  experienced 
the   night   before  arriving  at  the  capital 


140     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

when  passing  over  an  elevation  of  eleven 
thousand  feet.  After  this  slight  inconven- 
ience, thoug'h,  there  is  a  constant  joy  in 
living — an  indescribable  sensation  of  ec- 
stasy. A  suicide  in  that  glorious  country 
is  an  unheard  of  occurrence. 

For  miles  and  miles  before  reaching  the 
city  we  passed  the  sign  ''Zona  Torrida" 
where  began  the  giant  trees  with  hanging 
vines  and  brilliant  blossoms  on  the  highest 
branches.  This  almost  impenetrable  forest 
is  a  mass  of  verdure  from  the  loftiest  tree  top 
to  the  ferns  at  the  roots,  and  the  air  is  full  of 
tihe  smell  of  green  coffee.  The  great  wide 
white  asphalted  streets  are  teeming  with 
beautifully  dressed  women — dashing  vic- 
torias and  flower  girls.  Of  course  the 
brown  laughing  children  are  there  too.  It 
seemed  to  me  the  appearance  must  be  that 
of  a  French  capital. 

We  at  once  began  our  sight-seeing,  con- 
trary to  the  directions  in  the  guide  book  to 
"Rest  two  days."     First  we  went  to  the 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.     141 

grand  art  studio,  where  in  cool  white  galler- 
ies are  displayed  pictures  by  the  old  masters. 
One  immense  painting,  covering  almost  one 
side  of  a  room,  represented  Abraham  on  the 
verge  of  sacrificing  Isaac,  and  the  angel  stay- 
ing his  hand.  It  is  the  grandest  painting 
I  ever  saw,  the  expression  of  perfect  obedi- 
ence on  Isaac's  face — the  stern  suffering  of 
Abraham's — I  could  have  lingered  before 
this  one  alone  for  hours.  There  are  all 
kinds  of  pictures ;  landscapes,  portraits,  and 
still  life ;  also  a  grand  hall  of  sculpture.  On 
all  sides  are  students  in  linen  aprons  copy- 
ing pictures — purpose  and  genius  on  every 
face — until  it  does  indeed  seem  like  Paris. 
The  Spanish  are  a  talented  and  ingeni- 
ous people.  They  excel  in  painting,  music 
and  sculpture,  and  nothing  displays  more 
genius  than  their  weaving  of  the  serapes, 
and  the  drawn  work  of  the  "peons."  They 
are  too  dreamy  and  poetical  for  practical 
life,  and,  were  it  not  for  enterprising  Amer- 
icans, they  would  live  their  little  lives  in 


142     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

ignorance  of  the  treasures  stored  about 
them;  still,  they  quietly  resent  the  ap- 
propriation of  their  rights  by  Americans. 

There  seems  to  be  a  lurking  jealousy  in 
the  heart  of  each  one  you  meet;  a  precon- 
ceived determination  not  to  be  friends. 
They  are  inclined  to  be  very  distrustful  of 
"Gringoes''  as  they  call  Americans. 

Their  antipathy  for  Americans  seems 
more  intense  the  deeper  into  the  interior  one 
goes,  so  that  it  cannot  be  entirely  accounted 
for  by  the  ruthless  manner  in  which  Amer- 
icans have  outraged  their  proprieties. 

There  was  a  handsome  young  cousin  from 
an  interior  city  visiting  the  Senora  and  her 
children,  and  the  three  months  of  his  visit 
were  in  many  ways  unpleasant  to  me,  if 
laughably  so.  Luis  Adolpho  became  very 
soon  the  hero  of  the  home,  praised  for  his 
eyes,  his  glowing  color,  his  grace  and  his 
clothes.  One  day  I  told  him  that  his 
clothing  looked  very  American ;  he  declared 
he  would  burn  them  at  once,     nis  hatred 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.     143 

was  absorbing,  violent.  Nothing  I  could 
do  would  change  his  views.  Some  days  he 
would  be  merry  and  agreeable,  drawing  me 
into  conversation,  when,  with  a  gesture  of 
supreme  disgust,  he  would  exclaim : 

'^iSlo  recuerdo  que  listed  es  una  Ameri- 
cana!'' (I  do  not  remember  that  you  are  an 
American.)  His  cousins  and  the  Senora 
would  laughingly  remonstrate  with  him,  but 
all  to  no  avail. 

When  the  telephone  rang  he  usually 
answered  it,  for  they  love  their  telephone 
very  much — here  they  can  engage  in  con- 
versation otherwise  forbidden.  If  some 
poor  unfortunate  called  for  me  he  would  ex- 
claim, ^'■Gringo F'  and  slam  the  receiver  into 
place.  I  came  in  from  a  little  jaunt  once 
and  found  every  photograph  I  possessed 
marked  "No  good."  Luis  Adolpho  had  done 
this.  It  was  the  only  English  at  his  com- 
mand. When  his  father  told  him  he  wished 
to    send    him    to    college    in    the    States, 


144     -^.n  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

Luis  Adolpho  declared  lie  would   not   be 
branded  by  such  a  " vereguen:2a"  (shame). 

He  was  supposed  to  be  very  much  in  love 
with  a  pretty  girl  living  nearby ;  one  day  he 
came  in  and  announced  that  she  was  no 
longer  his  ^'dulce  carazon,"  for  someone  had 
said  she  looked  like  an  American,  and  he 
lamented  deeply  that  he  had  wasted  money 
by  having  her  serenaded. 

Although  people  say  their  politeness  is  a 
veneering,  and  among  the  ^^peons"  it 
does  amount  to  obsequiousness,  I  think 
even  a  Frenchman  would  have  to  look  to  his 
laurels  before  a  high-born  Mexican.  Though 
it  may  lack  sincerity,  there  is  a  beautiful 
grace  in  his  every  bow — in  every  movement 
— a  grace  that  it  is  impossible  to  imitate. 

The  National  Museum  contains  treasures 
of  much  greater  interest  than  prosaic  mu- 
seums usually  have,  with  their  following  of 
tired  school  teachers.  Here  is  Maximilian's 
coach,  mounted  in  gold  with  gold  cupids  on 
it,  and  lined  with  white  satin  and  lace,  a 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.     145 

luxurious  equipage;  here,  too,  the  calendar 
stone  upon  which  seven  hundred  human  be- 
ings lost  their  heads  in  a  day. 

On  the  eastern  end  of  the  Alameda,  in 
Mexico  City,  has  long  stood  one  of  the  most 
palatial  homes  in  Mexico — doubtless  the 
grandest  in  the  Republic.  The  stairs  and 
corridor  floors  are  of  the  purest  marble; 
out  of  the  corridors  open  about  fifty  per- 
fectly furnished  rooms.  The  magnificent 
dining  hall  is  a  hundred  feet  long,  furnished 
in  rosewood  and  mahogany.  The  glisten- 
ing floor  is  in  rare  mosaics.  In  this  room 
are  several  thousand  pieces  of  exquisitely 
painted  china,  sparkling  glass,  and  silver- 
ware. 

Fairylike  in  their  daintiness  are  the  bed- 
chambers, with  their  soft  lace  draperies  and 
hand  embroidered  sheets.  The  parlor  fitr 
tings  are  beautiful ;  every  chair  is  in  a  frame 
of  massive  gold,  under  sparkling  chandeliers 
that  cost  enough  to  keep  a  modest  family  in 
comfort  for  a  lifetime.     In   this  room  is 


146     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

a  table  of  inlaid  wood  showing  the  face  of  a 
beautiful  young  girl — a  piece  of  workman- 
ship without  a  parallel.  The  air  is  filled 
with  music  of  passionate  sweetness,  for  the 
love  of  music  is  inherent  with  the  whole  na- 
tion. 

The  Cathedral  is  magnificent,  but  the  re- 
cent substitution  of  wooden  floors  for  tiling 
detracts  greatly  from  its  beauty.  There  is 
no  telling  the  money  that  has  been  spent  on 
that  building,  and  in  it.  The  jeweled  crown 
on  the  Virgin  Mary  cost  thousands  of  dol- 
lars— paid  for  chiefly  by  the  hordes  of  poor 
who  worship  there. 

Mexicans  are  natural  gamblers.  Even 
small  boys  sit  on  the  streets  all  day  long  at 
some  winning  or  losing  game.  I  was  pres- 
ent on  one  occasion  when  a  car  driver  ex- 
cused himself  to  his  passengers,  and  stepped 
down  to  engage  in  a.  wayside  game,  of  heads 
and  tails.  In  a  few  minutes  he  came  back, 
having  pocketed  his  winnings,  and,  thank- 
ing us  for  our  patience,  drove  on.    All  day 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.     147 

men  and  women  pass  back  and  forth  on  the 
streets  with  their  little  game  cocks — ^for 
thus  they  make  or  lose  a  living.  Every- 
body buys  lottery  tickets.  They  are  sold 
on  the  street  by  newsboys  like  daily  papers. 
Roulette  is  another  thing  that  has  a  strong- 
hold on  the  public.  Fortunes  are  made  and 
lost  in  a  single  night  in  the  roulette  quar- 
ters. 

Much  has  been  written  of  Chapultepec — 
the  home  of  the  revered  President  Porfirio 
Diaz,  who  is  really  a  grand  man.  Nothing 
has  ever  been  written  in  his  praise  that  has 
said  too  much — he  is  the  stronghold  of  the 
Republic.  In  order  to  appreciate  that  white 
palace  on  the  hill  one  must  see  it.  A  more 
fitting  location  could  not  be  found,  with  a 
fine  view  of  snow-capped  Popocatepetl  in 
the  distance,  and  framed  by  the  nearer 
mountains.  The  people  love  their  president 
as  Queen  Victoria's  subjects  loved  her. 

The  Paseo  de  la  Rcforma  is  the  "swell" 
drive  of  Mexico  City — it  is  to  the  Mexicans 


148     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

what  Champs  Elysees  is  to  Parisians — a 
broad,  shady  avenue  leading  to  Chapultepec 
— beautiful  in  every  detail,  with  its  magnifi- 
cent statues  every  few  blocks — for  the  Span- 
ish spare  no  pains  to  beautify  their  capital. 

Big  "double-decker"  cars  run  through  the 
city,  killing  several  sleepy  ^'peons''  daily, 
down  among  the  slums.  Cars  run  out  to  the 
little  villages  near  the  city,  clustering 
among  the  mountains;  these  are  delightful 
trips  to  take.  A  few  minutes'  ride  and 
one  is  transported  to  a  sleepy  little  hamlet, 
as  quiet  as  a  buried  city,  whose  peaceful 
streets  it  is  a  delight  to  wander  through. 

There  is  no  place,  though,  so  lovely  as  the 
flower  market.  It  occupies  one  block  of 
ground  and  is  a  mass  of  poppies,  violets, 
roses,  lilies  and  carnations,  with  their  in- 
toxicating perfume. 

I  priced  one  mammoth  bouquet  of  Amer- 
ican beauty  roses.  "Five  dollars,"  was  the 
prompt  answer. 

"No,  indeed,"  I  said;  so  he  dropped  to 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.     149 

two  dollars  without  further  parley.  Still  I 
refused  to  buy,  and  he  kept  falling  until 
finally  he  followed  me  up  the  street  and 
asked  me  to  take  it  for  twenty-five  cents, 
which  is  much  less  than  twelve  and  a  half 
in  our  money.  Fancy  my  triumph  at  get- 
ting my  arms  full  of  American  Beauty 
roses  at  such  a  figure!  One  day  at 
the  fruit  market  I  asked  for  twenty-five 
cents'  worth  of  oranges,  and  was  appalled 
when  the  woman  counted  out  thirty-seven 
large  ones  and  beckoned  me  to  take  them. 
On  the  way  down  we  had  made  a  stop  where 
hundreds  of  peddlers  boarded  the  train  with 
great  bouquets  of  orchids  for  sale,  and  would 
not  fall,  as  is  customary,  in  their  price.  Re- 
gretfully we  were  thinking  of  having  refused 
them,  worth  as  many  dollars  in  the  United 
States  as  they  demanded  in  cents  here, 
when  we  got  another  chance  at  them. 
While  the  train  was  circling  twelve  miles 
around  the  mountain  these  natives  had 
scrambled  down  two  thousand  feet  and  were 


150     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

waiting  for  us  at  the  station,  ready  to 
"close"  at  any  offer  we  made.  Then  we 
understood  why  they  had  been  firm  in  their 
first  offer. 

Victorias  can  be  rented  on  any  corner  for 
fifty,  seventy-five  cents  and  a  dollar  an  hour, 
and  as  many  people  as  can  get  in  may  go  at 
that  price.  Those  at  fifty  cents  an  "hour  are 
likely  to  contain  fleas,  for  the  low  class  peo- 
ple use  them;  the  others  are  quite  elegant. 
We  did  not  know  the  difference  when  we 
first  arrived,  until  we  were  nearly  devoured 
by  fleas,  and  some  one  explained  why  it  was. 
It  is  not  at  all  amiss  to  discuss  fleas  there, 
though.  I  have  seen  Concepcion  and  Ro- 
sita  make  a  dive  after  one  right  in  company 
without  even  saying  '■^Con  permisoJ' 

The  cheap  carriages  have  tiny  yellow 
metal  flags  on  the  seat  by  the  driver,  the 
next  price  red,  and  the  finest  one  a  blue  flag. 

The  only  way  I  could  remember  which  was 
which,  was  by  saying  in  my  mind,  "yellow 
for  yellow  Mexican,  red  for  ordinary  red- 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.      151 

blooded  individuals,  and  the  blue  for  the 
blue-blooded  people."  Though  very  childish 
this  served  the  purpose.  The  prices  are  re- 
markable when  one  considers  the  difference 
in  money. 

The  change  of  money  is  rather  confusing 
at  first,  and  the  mind  involuntarily  runs  a 
figure  two  through  every  price.  A  person 
feels  wonderfully  rich  when  the  money  is 
changed  going  over,  and  he  gets  more  than 
two  dollars  for  one.  But  how  flat  the  purse 
coming  back  and  changing  the  money  at 
Laredo,  when  exchange  is  probably  as  low  as 
thirty-five  cents  for  a  dollar. 

When  one  steps  into  a  carriage  there  is  al- 
ways a  dirty  little  boy  who  runs  beside  it,  no 
matter  how  fast  it  may  be  going,  until  he 
is  panting  for  breath.  The  only  way  he  ever 
gets  left  is  by  stopping  to  challenge  some 
other  urchin  who  is  trying  to  take  his  place. 
One  day  while  on  a  shopping  expedition,  I 
decided  to  go  to  the  post  office  to  see  if  my 
name  was  posted  up  there  among  the  list 


152     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

put  up  daily  in  Spanish  for  letters  of  no 
particular  address.  I  left  my  parcels  in  the 
carriage,  and  the  little  urchin,  smiling 
sweetly  at  me  as  I  went  in,  assured  me  that 
he  would  watch  them  for  me. 

When  I  returned  there  was  a  great  com- 
motion in  the  vicinity  of  the  carriage,  every 
one  of  them  berating  my  little  attendant  for 
being  a  ratero,  which  he  *  stoutly  denied. 
I  appeared  upon  the  scene,  and  a  young 
Mexican  man,  bowing  low,  told  me  that  the 
little  boy  had  stolen  a  comb.  As  I  turned  to 
reprove  him,  he  snatched  it  from  his  shirt 
bosom  and  tossing  it  toward  me,  fled  down 
the  street — a  policeman  at  his  heels.  I 
watched  him  out  of  sight  and  was  glad  to  see 
him  gaining  ground.  The  very  next  day  I 
saw  the  little  fellow  on  the  street,  and  he 
smiled  an  unashamed  smile  of  recognition. 
'Tis  a  pathetic  sight  to  see  the  little  fel- 
lows almost  running  their  legs  off  for  the 
sake  of  a  possible  penny. 

Three  days  we  devoted  to  the  ascent  and 


An  American  Girl  In  Mexico.     153 

descent  of  the  Popocatepetl.  First  we 
went  to  the  pretty  town  of  Amecameca,  then 
up  to  the  ranchero's  home  and  from  there 
slowly  by  ropes  we  climbed,  with  the 
guide  ahead.  We  wore  heavy  warm  clothing 
and  took  along  plenty  of  food.  Arriving  at 
the  summit  we  were  well  repaid  for  our  ex- 
ertion. A  beautiful  view  for  miles  around 
us,  and  the  triumph  of  being  able  to  say  we 
had  climbed  Popocatepetl.  What  had  taken 
three  days  to  climb  we  descended  in  a  few 
moments.  How?  By  taking  a  seat  on  a 
mat  of  rushes — and  w-h-sh-t !  We  were  back 
at  the  ranch.  Of  course  we  were  frightened, 
but  not  tired.  It  was  a  delightful  trip,  both 
ways. 

We  spent  one  lazy  month  here,  sightsee- 
ing when  we  felt  inclined,  and  at  other  times 
revelling  in  the  sunshine  and  music  of  the 
plazas.  Then  the  Senora  turned  her  face 
homeward  with  unwavering  determination, 
and  though  we  left  with  reluctance  we  en- 
joyed the  return  trip  as  much  as  the  one 


154     -^^  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

down.    Monterey  seemed  quiet,  indeed,  after 
the  gay,  noisy,  flashy  capital. 

Two  months  more  slipped  by  and  I  began 
to  yearn  for  home.  "Breathes  there  a  man 
with  soul  so  dead,  who  never  to  himself  hath 
said,  'This  is  my  own,  my  native  land?' " 
became  my  constant  refrain,  and  the  letters 
from  my  loved  ones  made  me  more  and  more 
heartsick  for  a  glimpse  of  that  dear  land  of 
stars  and  stripes.  I  had  learned  to  chatter 
the  Spanish  language  quite  fluently;  nearly 
a  year's  self-imposed  exile  had  made  me  feel 
like  an  orphan.  One  day  when  a  letter 
came,  announcing  the  approaching  marriage 
of  a  dear  girl  friend,  and  asking  that  I  come 
to  be  bridesmaid,  I  told  the  family  I  was 
going  home.  It  was  at  the  dinner  table 
that  I  made  the  announcement.  The  dear 
Senora  dropped  her  face  in  her  hands  and 
began  to  sob.  That  very  evening  I  com- 
menced my  packing,  and  set  a  day  for  my 
departure  less  than  a  week  hence.     I  grew 


A   HATl'Y    m)MK  CIRCLE. 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.     155 

almost  wild  ynth  joy  at  the  thought  of 
home — so  much  so  that  I  feared  the  family 
would  feel  wounded.  Never  in  all  my  twen- 
ty years  of  happy  life  had  I  felt  such  de- 
light. 

Often  there  had  been  a  motley  throng  un- 
der my  window;  children  and  brown  faced 
babies,  laughing  and  chattering  with  me  in 
their  own  tong-ue.  I  never  knew  why  they 
loved  so  to  come  unless  for  an  occasional 
bright  bit  of  ribbon  for  the  girls,  and  the 
"cigarros-'  for  the  boys.  I  knew  why  I 
loved  to  have  them.  What  girl  would  not 
be  pleased  with  their  pretty  flattery?  Such 
lovely  extravagant  things  they  would  say  to 
me!  Sometimes  I  would  become  extravar 
gant  and  shower  down  pennies,  their  big 
awkward  pennies.  Then  what  a  scram- 
bling there  would  be!  Like  a  barnyard 
scene,  when  corn  is  scattered  among  the 
fowls,  and  such  blessings  as  they  would 
call  down  upon  me.    I  learned  most  of  their 


156     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

names,  and  naturally  there  were  Concliitas 
and  Pedros,  Carmens  and  Rafaels,  for  these 
are  as  inevitable  in  Mexico  as  our  Smiths 
and  Jones.  When  I  told  them  one  day  that 
I  was  going  back  to  the  States  there  was  a 
unanimous  roar  of  sorrow,  little  brown 
grimy  fists  rubbed  tearful  eyes,  and  I  knew 
then  what  true  little  friends  I  had  made. 
They  had  really  learned  to  love  the  Scrwrita 
Americana,  and  their  little  homely  gifts 
were  most  touching.  Treasures  that  they 
had  carefully  hoarded  up  were  poked  un- 
hesitatingly into  me  through  the  barred  win- 
dow, and  for  once  they  accepted  pennies 
without  evident  joy. 

I  had  grown  so  roundfaced  during  the 
year  that  I  was  almost  afraid  the  home 
folks  would  not  know  me,  and  hoped  I  hadn't 
forgotten  how  to  speak  English.  The  night 
before  I  left,  Senora  went  to  the  Cathedral 
to  offer  a  prayer  for  my  safe  arrival  at 
home  and  happiness  thereafter,  and  gave  me 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.     157 

a  beautiful  pearl  rosary,  which,  with  tears 
in  her  eyes,  she  begged  me  to  use;  and  an 
opal  ring,  and  shed  more  tears  over  me. 

Seiior  Carlos  brought  me  a  brilliant 
silken  shawl,  and  I  knew  it  wasn't 
given  in  the  spirit  in  which  they  usually 
give  presents.  If  a  person  expresses  admi- 
ration of  a  thing  a  Spaniard  has,  even  if  it 
is  his  carriage,  he  offers  it  to  you,  and  in- 
sists that  you  take  it.  Of  course,  he  doesn't 
expect  you  to  do  so,  and  would  probably  cut 
your  acquaintance  if  you  did,  but  he  would 
be  no  gentleman  not  to  offer  it.  One  matter- 
of-fact  old  man  I  knew,  was  unfortunate- 
ly expressing  admiration  of  a  blanket  a 
Mexican  friend  had  when  the  friend  began 
to  insist  that  he  take  it — so  the  American 
did — expressing  great  appreciation.  Nat- 
urally he  was  much  surprised  a  few  weeks 
later  to  hear  that  he  had  been  called  a 
thief  by  the  giver.  Of  course  he  was  ex- 
pected  in   a   few   days   to   send   back   the 


158     An  American  Girl  in  Mexico. 

blanket.  But  this  the  American  did  not 
know. 

There  was  genuine  sorrow,  I  know,  at  my 
departure.  Even  Senor  Carlos'  voice  broke 
as  he  declared  I  was  like  a  sister  to  him,  and 
left  the  room  sobbing. 

Such  love  did  they  show  in  every  way — 
even  locking  my  room  and  declaring  it 
seemed  like  a  death  chamber^ — that  my  rap- 
ture was  mingled  with  grief. 

They  knew  I  loved  them  and  their  coun- 
try; every  phase  of  the  life  I  had  lived  for 
the  past  year;  and  so  fond  were  they  of  me 
that  the  SeiHora  declared  she  could  not  bear 
to  think  of  my  ever  marrying  a  cold-hearted 
American,  for  I  was  so  different — so  much 
more  like  them !  she  declared  admiringly. 

Dear  Senora!  She  would  not  say  good- 
bye, and  when  I  slipped  in  her  room  she  was 
there  on  her  knees,  her  back  to  the  door, 
sobbing.  She  did  not  hear  me  enter  nor 
come  toward  her,  until  I  had  put  my  arms 


An  American  Girl  in  Mexico.     159 

about  her  and  whispered  ^'Mamacitar' 
Then  she  wrung  her  hands  and  cried  ^^Oh, 
hijita  Americana,  hijita."  I  kissed  her  and 
hurried  away,  blinded  with  tears,  and  have 
not  seen  her  since,  for  in  less  than  an  hour  I 
was  speeding  toward  "Home,  Sweet  Home." 


THE  END. 


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